


The Lion's Pride

by beneathawesternsky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Courtly Love, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneathawesternsky/pseuds/beneathawesternsky
Summary: They said that as Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but at home was ruled by his Lady Wife Joanna Lannister. But before their blissful marriage, they were virtual strangers, betrothed as children. Lady Joanna is sent to King's Landing to serve as lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella in the midst of the War of the Ninepenny Kings, and in the wake of the Tragedy at Summerhall. Joanna must navigate her budding relationship with the cold and calculating young knight Tywin, find friendship in the most honorable knight who ever served in the King's Guard, and stave off unwanted advances from the lecherous young Prince Aerys, who is known to take liberties with Princess Rhaella's handmaids.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was really inspired by the mostly untold story of Joanna and Tywin Lannister. There were some amazing characters around during their courtship and betrothal. I really wanted to explore this pre-ASoIaF story, and I hope I've stayed as close to canon as possible. I've calculated age as best I can, and will try to keep most of the timeline intact. I'm by no means an expert on ASoIaF canon, so please forgive small flubs. Some of these may be purposeful for the sake of storytelling. If you notice anything amiss, please ask, and I'll be happy to either explain my reasoning, or make a correction (as I do not have a beta reader).
> 
> As per the rape/non-con tag, there are no graphic depictions of rape, but merely references to it. (The story does involve Aerys II after all)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, because I am a highly comments-driven writer. Even if I just get one comment, it's enough to keep me going. So don't be shy, and just drop a note! Cheers.

“Joanna Lannister, you rotten child, get back here,” Septa Truvie shouted, running after the wild girl. Joanna knew better than to think the Septa was truly angry with her. If her laughter didn’t give her away, it was the large smile on her face.

Joanna bolted down the hallway, running from the inevitable bath that awaited her inside her chambers. After a day of running barefoot through the meadows and bogs surrounding her father’s holdfast that lay half a day’s ride from Casterly Rock, Joanna’s legs and dress were coated in mud. Settled on her hiding place, Joanna slid into her father’s small library, and drew the curtains behind her as she took up refuge on the window ledge, which was large enough to hide her and a few of her favorite books.

She curled her grubby feet under her, and pulled a book from the bottom of her stash, flipping to the page she had left off at. Aegon the Conquerer had just landed on the east coast of Westeros. Joanna loved the story of Aegon the Conquerer, especially Aegon’s sisters. The sisters never did get enough credit for helping Aegon conquer Westeros.

The curtains snapped back, and Septa Truvie stood, solid and broad, with her hands on her hips.

“You. Bath. Now,” she said, taking the book from Joanna with a sigh.

Joanna grumbled, but complied and slid off her stony perch. She dragged her feet all the way to her quarters, where a steaming copper tub awaited her. With her play clothes off, Joanna sank into the water, and allowed the Septa to scrub her skin pink. Tonight was an important night—they were going to Casterly Rock for her cousin’s Name Day celebration.

“Ow!” Joanna objected as the Septa dragged a tortoiseshell comb through the unruly knots in her golden hair.

“If you were more a lady and didn’t sneak off to play in the muck, this wouldn’t hurt as much,” Septa said. “You’re much too old to be so wild.”

“Why can’t you just cut it all off?” Joanna asked through her grimace as the Septa worked her way through the knots.

“Because you are a lady, and that is how ladies wear their hair,” Septa said.

Joanna was silent at this. She knew what was expected of her tonight. Her father had kept her from Casterly Rock since her birth, but the time had come to finally present her to Lord Tytos and his wife, Lady Jeyne. At thirteen, Ser Jason could no longer give excuses for why he kept her from being presented to the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“I don’t want to go to Casterly Rock,” Joanna said. “I don’t care about Tywin’s Name Day, I’ve never met him.”

Septa smiled, and when she was satisfied with her work, she grabbed a large towel for her charge to step into. When little Joanna had been bundled up, Septa Truvie knelt in front of her.

“I don’t need to tell you why you must go. It is your cousin’s sixteenth Name Day. He is a man now, and it is important that your family support their future liege lord.”

“But father does that, I don’t know why I—“

“Because you are old enough now, Joanna, and you are expected to be a lady. I expect you’ll be betrothed soon enough, and you’ll make little lords and ladies of your own.”

“He’ll be old and ugly,” Joanna said crossly.

“And what makes you say that, child?” the Septa asked as she toweled off Joanna’s hair.

“Because it’s what Lynora and Stafford said,” Joanna managed, nearing tears. She hated thinking about having to marry some stranger. Tonight only meant she was getting closer to that.

The Septa pulled out Joanna’s shift, and lowered it over her head.

“Lynora is jealous because, as your father’s bastard, she will not marry high-born like you or your brothers and sisters. And your little brother is wrong to tease you thus. Your father will choose a man worthy of you,” Septa said. “It matters not that he has a handsome face, for handsome men can be just as cruel as homely men." 

Joanna nodded, and swallowed back her fears.

Within the hour, Joanna’s hair was perfumed, she was dressed in a fine, green silk dress that brought out the green of her eyes, and her hair was braided ornately. As much as Joanna disliked most of what came with being a lady, she allowed herself to twist in admiration in front of her silvered mirror.

“There,” the Septa said. “You look the part of a lady. Just don’t go chewing on the bones at dinner tonight, you’ll give yourself away,” she added with a wink.

* * *

 

Joanna fidgeted with the neckline of her gown as she rode her pony Hildebrand up the stone steps of Casterly Rock’s courtyard. She had grown up in the shadow of the great Castle, but having been sheltered from its politics, she had no idea what to expect. She had enough experience at being a young lady, and conducting herself as such when truly expected of her, but Casterly Rock carried with it a great amount of unease.

Her father, Ser Jason, spoke kindly of his brother, Lord Tytos, and he assured Joanna that he was a jovial sort of man, prone to excesses, but he would not be unkind to her. Her brother Damon, from her father’s first marriage was a man grown, and had already been presented to Lord Tytos. But as her four other true-born siblings were younger than her, they were not yet presented to Tytos. Her mother was pregnant yet with her sixth child. Her bastard sister Lynora would not be presented at all.

Joanna had barely noticed that they had made it all the way up to the great stone steps to the great hall. Her mind had been racing the entire way. What if she tripped on her gown? What if the Lord and his family thought her table manners poor? 

All worries were cast aside as she saw who she assumed was her uncle, jovially walking down the stone steps, his arms wide.

“Jason! My brother,” he said. Joanna’s father hopped down from his horse, and clapped his brother’s back in a hug.

With help from a squire, Joanna stepped down from her pony, and stood patiently, waiting to be received by Lord Tytos.

“Gods, Jason, how are you? How is your Lady Wife?” Tytos said, his face rosy, already half in his cups.

“Well, my Lord. She has begun her confinement,” Jason said, referring to his wife’s most recent pregnancy. “She is sorry she could not be here, but we are happy to be here on such a joyous occasion,” he added, looking back to the child he had brought with him.

“And who is this?” Tytos asked kindly. “This can’t be the little Lady Joanna? But you were a babe last I saw you.”

“It is me, My Lord,” Joanna said, and curtsied with as much grace as she could manage.

“Oh, _posh_ ,” he said, “none of this ‘lord’ business! I’m Uncle Tytos to you, and that’s final.”

Joanna smiled. “Yes my—Yes, Uncle Tytos.”

At that, Tytos laughed and kissed his niece on both cheeks. “My lady,” he said, and he held out his arm, and Joanna took it meekly. They passed into the halls, passing servants and squires all making last minute arrangements for the feast.

Tytos brought his brother and his brother’s daughter to a great study, where wine was poured for all, and they waited for the rest of Tytos’s family to arrive before their entrance was made into the great hall. Joanna held her glass of wine unsurely—her father had only ever allowed her to take wine medicinally. Unsure what to do, Joanna sipped politely, trying to hide her dislike of the taste.

Joanna stood in awe, admiring the high ceilings and the bookshelves that extended over twenty feet high. She had never seen so many books in her life. Would that she could spend but an hour in the library—she was sure there was at least one book about dragons in there somewhere.

“Like what you see, young lady?” Tytos asked, pointedly. He laughed, and drank generously from his cup.

“Yes Uncle,” she said, her young ears untrained to finer tones. “Father’s library is my favorite place in the holdfast.”

“And what a small library it is, I keep saying you ought to let me make a loan for its renovation,” Tytos said, addressing his younger brother. 

“I could not, Tytos, it would not sit right with me,” he said. He already had felt managed enough by the patriarch of the family, he would not take his money.

The Lord of Casterly Rock opened his mouth to speak, but his, and everyone else’s attention was drawn to the door, which opened with a bang. In clamored four boys, the first three of whom were arguing amongst themselves, and a girl about the same age as Joanna. The fourth of the boys, standing at least a foot taller than the other three, with noble green eyes, flecked with gold, and a fair, freckled complexion, carried himself with a cool dignity and air that made Joanna think him cold and unwelcoming.

“Kevan, Tygett, Gerion and Genna! Quit your bickering!” Tytos shouted, causing the boys to fall silent. “Say hello to your uncle and cousin.”

All five of Tytos’s children mumbled their greetings, and soon their attention fell to young Joanna in her sea green silks.

Joanna curtsied and said her greetings. All five of them seemed ten degrees less interested in her than her uncle had been, and for this she tried to hide her disappointment. This could have been forgotten, but the look of disappointment that played on her oldest cousin’s face when he was told he would escort her into the hall made Joanna want to run all the way back to her father’s holdfast.

The time came to make the procession into the great hall, and when Tywin extended his arm to Joanna obligingly, Jason and Tytos exchanged a secret glance. 

Once in the hall, where they were greeted by over a hundred standing guests, they sat at the head table, and the feast began.

Joanna remained a quiet observer of the scene in the great hall at Casterly Rock. Bannermen drank and laughed, and the Lord of Casterly Rock drank and laughed louder than all of them. Every time Tytos’s bellowing laugh was heard over the din of the feast, Joanna saw her cousin Tywin’s strained expression. Clearly, his father’s drunkenness embarrassed him to excess. 

Joanna thought Lord Tytos kindly and jovial, just as her father assured her, but she was determined to not let her cousin’s ill mood deter her from acting like a lady. When, after a half an hour of stony silence seated beside him, Joanna asked her cousin a question, she was answered with as much disinterest as she had estimated.

“My father told me you were just knighted by His Grace King Aegon.”

“Yes,” he replied stiffly, and refilled his goblet with wine.

Joanna smiled. “Do you like it in King’s Landing?”

Tywin sighed, and didn’t answer right away. “It’s not all pretty maids and knights in polished armor like it is in the songs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Joanna scrunched her eyebrows in indignation. “I don’t _care_ about pretty maids and knights. But I bet _you_ do,” she said, picking at an invisible spot on the wooden table. Immediately she regretted her words. She was not being a lady, like Septa Truvie had told her to be.

Tywin opened his mouth to respond, but his Lord Father’s voice stopped him.

“Tell me girl,” he said, leaning over the table to get a good view of his niece, seated two seats away. “Have you bled yet?”

Joanna blanched. “M-My Lord?” She looked to her father, seated next to Lord Tytos. His expression was grave, but with his eyes, bid her to answer.

“Your father tells me you’re not yet betrothed,” he said, and took another swig of his wine. “I was telling him a girl can be betrothed before she bleeds. Tell me girl, have you?”

Joanna looked at the table and nodded her head so gently that she wasn’t sure anyone saw it.

Tytos laughed heartily. “My boy Tywin hasn’t been made a match yet,” he said. “He says he won’t marry from a lowly house; what do you say to _that_ , Jason?”

“I’d say he’s a smart lad,” Jason said, uncomfortably.

“Says the ladies at court are silly and flit about like idiots,” Tytos roared, and hiccupped.

“ _Father_ ,” Tywin warned, his complexion growing redder by the minute.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “Enough of this, then.” He stood, scraping back his chair, and soon enough the entire hall grew silent, waiting for their Lord to speak. 

Tytos addressed his guests, and prattled on drunkenly about his son’s Name Day celebration, and one by one, guests presented gifts to the heir to Casterly Rock. Joanna heard none of this, as her blood rushed in her ears. She had never been so laid bare in any of her father’s feasts, or public gatherings. What Joanna had taken for kindliness in her uncle not an hour before, she now interpreted differently. His guffaws and loud gestures were nothing more than that of a drunken fool. She looked at the faces of his bannermen, and saw mockery and condescension poorly masked in their faces.

All her life, Joanna had considered her house one of the most prestigious and well regarded among the noble families of Westeros. But this Lord’s behavior reflected none of the Lannister’s glory and esteem she had been taught by her father and the Septa.

Joanna dwelled on this a while longer, and was roused from her broodings when Tytos clapped her father on the shoulder. 

“For the last of the gifts on my son’s sixteenth Name Day, I have this for you, dear Tywin. It was only a discussion recently, but…” he looked to his younger brother Jason, whose face was solemn. “In light of tonight, I think it wise to finally set your betrothal.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Tytos continued, his tongue loosened from all the wine he’d consumed. “I considered it a while, and it’s true there was a very pretty Tully girl, and a Martell girl who would have done well for you, but after seeing my lovely niece Joanna, my mind is made up. I announce officially tonight the betrothal of my heir Tywin Lannister, to the eldest daughter of my brother Jason Lannister.” Tytos rasied his cup, and the entire hall did the same. “Please join me in toasting this most happy of betrothals.”

The great hall cheered and clapped, and Joanna’s face drained of color. She looked to her father, whose expression was that of remorse. He could not deny his liege lord and older brother. 

Tywin hissed to his father. “Father, she’s a _child_.”

Tytos chuckled. “My boy, you’re not marrying her tomorrow. A few years, give or take,” he added with a wink, punctuated by another sip from his cup.

Tywin’s green eyes blazed. He stood abruptly, scraping his chair back as he stormed out of the great hall, leaving his guests murmuring at his back.

* * *

 

The next few hours passed in a haze. Joanna had no appetite for anything put in front of her, and she made no more conversation. She thought on what little of Tywin she knew. He seemed to be a rather unhappy young man—but who wouldn’t be, with a father as silly as Tytos Lannister? It still didn’t excuse his arrogance. 

When Joanna was helped out of her chair by her father, Joanna held onto his arm for support.

“Father, please,” she pleaded quietly. Jason hushed her gently.

They left the great hall, and entered the same library which they had taken refuge in before the feast. Tywin’s three younger brothers and sister were quickly whisked away to bed, but still shot Joanna teasing looks on their way out. Joanna held herself together, if only out of shock.

“Wait here, brother,” Tytos bid Jason, and off he went down the private halls of Casterly Rock, shouting Tywin’s name.

Joanna sat feebly on a chair, and looked up tearily at her father.

“Father, please,” Joanna begged, a tear falling down each cheek. “I don’t want to marry him.”

Jason sighed and sat beside his beloved daughter. “I’m sorry dearest,” he said, taking her hands. “Lord Tytos is our liege lord, and this is his wish.” He paused, looking at the sad look on his daughter’s face. “It’s a good match, love. You’ll be the Lady of Casterly Rock.”

“I don’t _want_ to be the Lady of Casterly Rock!” she shouted, finally able to feel anger through her sadness. “I don’t want to marry _anyone_.”

“You say that now,” he said. He was silent a moment. “Joanna, this match is far better than I had hoped for you. I’ve done things that… Most noblemen do, but don’t flaunt like I do.”

Joanna sniffled. “Lynora,” she reasoned simply. She referred, of course, to her bastard sister. Many noble lords did indeed have bastards, but few of them lived so openly in their father’s houses. For a nobleman to support a bastard in sight of his own wife was unheard of.

“Yes. Your uncle has his mistresses, but he’s the Lord of Casterly Rock, and such things are overlooked.”

Joanna sat in silence, and was roused from her thoughts when she heard growing shouts from the hallway.

Tytos and Tywin were coming down the corridor, and by the sound of it, none of Tywin’s anger had abated.

“You get in there boy, and apologize to that poor girl,” Tytos warned.

“No!” Tywin’s voice responded.

“You dare defy me?”

“If I knew you better, father, I would think your threats are serious. But we know how your bannermen take advantage of you. Why should your threats matter now?” 

“You don’t think I’m serious?” Tytos’s voice reasoned coldly.

“No, I don’t,” Tywin said.

“I swear it, boy, if you don’t consent, I’ll name Kevan my heir, and you can be a bloody sellsword in King’s Landing for all I care. And don’t think this is an idle threat, boy. I’ll fetch Maester Gavin this instant to draw up the contract.”

“Father, _they bring shame to the family_. They parade that bastard daughter about like it’s nothing.”

“That’s no fault of hers, boy.”

There was silence.

The door banged open, and Tywin came in, followed by his father. Tywin, though he was tall, handsome, and dignified, looked very much like a scolded child at this moment.

His jaw clenched, and Joanna saw his fists, balled at his sides, do the same.

“Uncle Jason… Lady _Joanna_ ,” he said, finally looking down at the young girl. “I have behaved abysmally. Please accept my deepest apologies.” 

“Of course, Tywin,” Jason replied, automatically.

Joanna was silent.

Jason shifted uncomfortably. “ _Joanna_ ,” he warned of his child. 

Joanna’s face flushed. For fear of what she might say, Joanna kept her mouth shut. She had never been so infuriated in her life. This arrogant, spoiled boy thought _they_ brought shame to the family? Instead, she nodded her acknowledgment, and looked anywhere in the room but at Tywin.

“There,” Tytos replied, and slapped his son’s back. “We’ll wait until Joanna is older, and for her to be presented at court of course.” 

“Court, my lord?” Jason replied.

“Of course!” Tytos replied. “The future Lady of Casterly Rock must be presented at court. She will be handmaid to Princess Rhaella. I’ll make the arrangements with the King.” 

“Tytos, Joanna is too young to go to court,” Jason objected.

“Well of course she is _now_ , but when the girl turns fourteen, I see no reason to keep her from court,” Tytos barked.

“Fourteen?” Jason stammered. The challenging look in his brother’s eyes changed his tone. “Of course, My Lord.”

Joanna’s head swam. Her fourteenth Name Day was only a year from now.

“Excellent!” Tytos said, and wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders.

Before Jason and Joanna retired to their guest quarters for the night, Joanna’s eyes met Tywin’s. He had been looking at her for some time. He held her gaze, and Joanna could not decide what she saw in the look he had given her. Was it disappointment? Was it disgust? She had no idea. The look haunted her for a whole year as she waited for the day she would leave the Westerlands for King’s Landing.


	2. Chapter 2

For two days, Joanna Lannister sat her horse and rode from Casterly Rock to King’s Landing. Eleven thousand Lannister men trailed behind Joanna and the rest of the Lannister family. They were headed to King’s Landing for the coronation of King Jaehaerys in the wake of the death of King Aegon, Prince Duncan and several other members of court at Summerhall. The eleven thousand Lannister men were meant to help defend against the Blackfyres, who again were revolting. In the time following the tragedy at Summerhall, the war that had been brewing in Essos had finally started in earnest.

The Lord of Casterly Rock answered the call to arms by sending his brother, Ser Jason, with these eleven thousand Lannister men, including her cousins Kevan and Tygett, who would serve as squires.

“Princess Rhaella will be happy to have you, Joanna,” Jason said, after hours of the silent ride to King’s Landing. “They say she has been quite melancholy since the birth of Prince Rhaegar at Summerhall”.

Joanna sighed. She had hoped that the war of the Ninepenny Kings would keep her from taking her place beside Rhaella at court, but it would not be so. The coronation was an affair that could not be missed, and Rhaella had lost her grandfather, uncle, and several of her ladies in waiting, and needed companionship. 

“I don’t know how much good I will do her,” Joanna said, gripping the reins tighter in her gloved hands. It took every ounce of strength for her not to turn her horse around and race back to her father’s holdfast, Feastfires.

Jason sighed. “Lord Tytos would not hear of it when I told him you wanted to stay back, in light of the war.”

“He’s a fool, father,” Joanna said. “He’s sending you to do the fighting, and he’s staying back at Casterly Rock with his mistress.”

Jason gave a small smirk. “He is a Lord and I am his bannerman.”

Joanna bristled. “Other Lords come to the aid of their king. Other Lords lead a host of men to war.”

Jason was silent a moment. He knew his young daughter was right, but he would not say as much. “Lords may do many things without impunity, my child. But even if your liege lord did answer the call to arms, I would still be expected to do so.” 

Joanna knew the matter was closed, and so they rode the remainder of the way to King’s Landing in silence. 

When they passed through the gates, and up the streets of King’s Landing, Joanna was shocked at the squalor and stench of the streets. Women, dressed in cloth so thin she could make out every detail of their bodies, stood on the stoops of several buildings. Joanna knew enough to know they were brothels. Joanna had seen filth in the streets of Lannisport, but nothing could rival what she saw in King’s Landing.

If only for this, Joanna desperately wanted to go home. The fear of what awaited her in the Red Keep only made her more desperate.

She had not seen Tywin, her betrothed, since his Name Day celebration a year before. He had written her no letters, and she had no reason to believe he would be kind to her upon her arrival in King’s Landing. But her father assured her that his affections would come soon enough. Joanna was not so sure. 

Joanna was escorted to the Red Keep while Ser Jason oversaw the Lannister forces set up camp. Other bannermen from other houses had already arrived, and King’s Landing was swimming with knights and soldiers. Joanna was whisked away immediately to a tailor, who would make up several dresses for her stay at court.

She stood on a block, and her measurements were taken. Bolts of fabric were draped over her shoulders.

“This color suits you, my lady,” the tailor said, commenting on a light coral brocade. Joanna had lost count of the fabrics they had looked at.

“My lord, I trust your judgment,” she said, tiredly. She never cared for dresses and courtly things, and wanted nothing more than to wash off the filth of the road and her travels. Yet, she was expected to be presented at court in the days preceding the coronation, and as her father and lord uncle stated, the future Lady of Casterly Rock must have a wardrobe fitting of her station.

“’My Lord’,” the tailor said, amused. “Never in my life have I been called ‘my lord’. You are a long way from home, my lady." 

“Yes,” Joanna said, looking at her tired face in the silvered, floor length mirror. “I am.”

* * *

 

“My lady,” a voice came from the other side of the door. Joanna opened her eyes, heavy from sleep and travel, and for a moment did not recognize her surroundings. She heard the distant caw of peacocks in the courtyard of the Red Keep, and the pre-dawn light of the morning came through the gauzy curtains of her small room.

The door opened, and a servant girl came in carrying a tray for Joanna. She set it on a table on the far end of the room, and came to Joanna’s bedside, where she pulled back the covers that Joanna wanted to stay under just a bit longer.

“Good morning, Lady Joanna,” the girl said. Joanna placed her bare feet on the cold stone floor, and shrugged her dressing gown on.

“Good morning,” Joanna said, pulling her hair out from underneath the robe.

“My name is Fiora,” the girl said, setting Joanna’s breakfast for her. “I’m to be your handmaiden while you’re at court. Because you are a lady-in-waiting to the princess, you’ll rise earlier than Her Majesty.” 

“Splendid,” Joanna said sardonically, picking at the fruit on the tray. As Joanna ate, the servant girl opened Joanna’s trunks, and pulled out a few of the gowns she had brought from Feastfires.

“Ser Jason informed me you saw the tailor only yesterday,” Fiora said, looking at each gown laid out on Joanna’s bed. “You’re being presented to the court today, so what you have presently will have to do.”

Joanna looked at her gowns. They were fine by any number of ladies’ opinions, but clearly they weren’t up to standard for the Targaryen court.

Just then, a knocking came at the door. Fiora left the dresses, and came to the door, opening it enough to see who was there.

“Oh, Ser Tywin,” Fiora said in surprise. “Her ladyship is not ready for court.”

“No, I daresay not, as the sun has not yet risen, and half of court yet sleeps in their beds. I must have a word with my cousin,” he said. Joanna noted that none of the sarcastic tone she’d heard at Casterly Rock had vanished. 

“Let him in, Fiora,” Joanna said, drawing her dressing gown together further up her chest.

Fiora nodded, and pulled the door wide to let the young knight in to her lady’s chambers.

Joanna’s stomach hitched a moment when she saw her betrothed before her, dressed this time not in a silk doublet, but the traditional red armor of the Lannisters, his reddish-blonde hair down to his shoulders.

Joanna rose, and curtsied, despite the early hour and her attire.

“Ser Tywin,” she said, and waited for him to state his business.

“I’ll be presenting you at court today,” he said simply. Joanna’s stomach dropped.

“My father—“

“You are my betrothed, and I will be the one to present you before the royal family. That is how things are done here.” 

“Of course, Ser.”

Tywin tensed at the use of his title. He sighed. “I hope you’ve something acceptable to wear.”

Joanna breathed a moment to spare her patience. “I brought my finest gowns from Feastfires. I saw the tailor only yesterday. The tailor will be finished before the coronation, however.” 

Tywin sighed and looked at the dresses laid out on the bed. “The red will do best,” he said. Joanna raised an eyebrow. 

“ _Will_ it?” she challenged.

“You do not know the Targaryens as I do,” Tywin said coldly. “They’re a proud family, and like it or not you represent the Lannisters at court. And as my lord father has seen fit to name you my betrothed, you represent me as well.”

Joanna’s eyes burned, but she bit her tongue. She blinked back her anger. “I will do my best not to shame you, _Ser Tywin_.”

Satisfied at Joanna’s answer, Tywin nodded his head, and tersely left the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he went.

Joanna huffed her indignation when he had gone.

“Gods help me when I have to marry that man,” Joanna said as she pulled her dressing gown off, and allowed Fiora to assist in her dressing. 

“He’s quite handsome, m’lady,” Fiora countered.

“Yes,” Joanna admitted, a knot growing in her stomach. “Handsome, and arrogant.”

“Oh,” Fiora said, fastening the laces at the back of Joanna’s red silk brocade gown that bared her shoulders. “But most of the young knights are a bit.” 

“What, all of them?” Joanna scoffed.

“Most,” Fiora corrected, a glint in her eye.

“Which aren’t, then?” Joanna asked, curiously.

Fiora was silent. She feared being too close with the lady she served.

“I don’t know anyone here at court—please, if you know these people and their reputations, I need to know.” Joanna looked at Fiora in silent pleading.

“Ser Barristan Selmy,” Fiora said, a wistful look in her eyes. “They call him Ser Barristan the Bold. He’s won every tourney that I can remember. He even unseated Prince Duncan, gods rest his soul. Ser Barristan is a true gentleman and knight.”

Joanna thought on this a moment. Perhaps King’s Landing wasn’t a pit of vipers like she’d been led to believe, but until she saw it for herself, she would not take the story as the rule.

When she had been dressed, her hair was done in the fashion of Casterly Rock, with a tendril from each temple pulled back and fastened at the nape of her neck.

She felt her stomach fill with ice as she walked with her serving-girl Fiora down the hallways of the Red Keep. They paused at a door at the end of her corridor, and Fiora knocked. Tywin answered without a word, and extended his arm to Joanna. 

Once Joanna had taken his arm, Fiora curtsied and left. They walked in terse silence down several corridors. When they reached the first flight of stairs, Tywin began to instruct Joanna in the finer intricacies of court.

“We will wait until we are called before the King. I trust you have been versed in due deference of royalty, but even still, do not speak until you are spoken to, and don’t speak more than necessary.”

“Is that how you would have me be as the Lady of Casterly Rock?” Joanna asked snidely. “Seen, but not heard?”

Tywin stopped dead in his tracks, turning to her. “ _This isn’t a_ _game_ , Joanna,” he said. It was the first time he’d used her name alone, without her title. It caught her off guard, and she looked up into Tywin’s clear gold-flecked green eyes. She could have sworn she saw a slight flush under the freckles that colored his cheeks and nose.

“The Targaryens are changeful people, prone to madness and excesses. They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. It’s _because_ you’ll be the Lady of Casterly Rock that you must watch yourself at court. Ladies at court must be careful.”

Joanna searched Tywin’s eyes for more meaning.

“Careful of whom?” she asked. 

Tywin didn’t answer, but his jaw flexed. “Everyone. You must promise me you’ll not go anywhere unaccompanied.”

Joanna said nothing. Tywin put his hands on Joanna’s upper arms and held her firmly. “ _Promise me_ , Joanna.”

“I-I promise, Tywin,” she said, unsettled. 

Satisfied, Tywin resumed his pace, and put Joanna’s arm back on his.

Shaken to her core, Joanna unconsciously held onto Tywin’s arm a bit tighter as they made their way to the throne room. The murmur of court grew louder as they approached, and the scene that met them made Joanna’s jaw drop ever so slightly.

The great hall was lined with great dragon skulls, and fires burning in each of the pillars. Lords, ladies, and knights turned to watch as Joanna and Tywin entered the hall. Joanna’s ears burned as some of them whispered and smiled at each other. 

Tywin ignored these reactions, and kept his eyes on the Iron Throne, where King Jaehaerys sat, dispensing justice and adhering to matters of the state. 

Joanna stood mesmerized by his long, silver hair. She knew almost all the Targaryens had silver hair, but it was much different to see it in person than to hear stories. So enraptured was she that she barely noticed when a young knight approached and began speaking with Tywin.

“This must be the Lady Joanna,” the tall knight said, his kind eyes glittering. Joanna forced herself to look away from the Iron Throne. “Tales of your beauty have not been exaggerated.”

Joanna swallowed, taken off her guard. “I thank you Ser. I did not know that I was known in court at all.”

He smiled, displaying a sweet smile that immediately set Joanna at ease. “Of course. Ser Tywin, though a hard man, is an honest one, so you know when he speaks well of someone, it must be true.”

Joanna looked up at Tywin, who did not dare look back at her. He stared at the unnamed knight with a hard seriousness.

“Lady Joanna, may I introduce you to Ser Barristan Selmy,” Tywin said.

Ser Barristan held out his hand, and Joanna placed her free hand in his, which he promptly kissed in a small bow. Joanna took back her hand, and immediately saw her father approach. Relief washed over her as he took his place beside her and Tywin.

“Father,” she said. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Tywin, thank you for seeing her down,” Ser Jason said to his nephew.

“Of course, uncle,” Tywin said dutifully. “How are the camps?”

“Well,” he said. “We will be glad of the time we have in the fortnight before we are off to Essos and the Stepstones,” Jason said, his eyes trained on the Iron Throne. “A coronation to bring us all together before we are off to war. Though it is hardly enough time for you two to become acquainted…”

Joanna opened her mouth to speak, but her attention was drawn away when she heard the announcement of their presentation to the future king. 

“The House Lannister presents at court the Lady Joanna, lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella, escorted by her betrothed, Ser Tywin Lannister, and her father, Jason Lannister.”

A murmur spread, and the crowd in front of Joanna and Tywin parted, allowing Tywin to lead her forward. Joanna held onto Tywin tightly, and looked up briefly at the large dragon skulls above her, before looking back at Jaehaerys, whose face was curled in a large smile. 

When they reached the bottom of the stone steps to the throne, Tywin bowed, and Joanna curtsied as gracefully as possible.

“Step forward, girl, and let me look at you,” Jaehaerys said.

Joanna looked a moment at Tywin, who let her arm go. He would not follow her. She truly would be laid bare in front of all at court. She shook as she reached the bottom of the dais steps, and clasped her hands together at her hip. 

“So, you are to become my daughter’s lady-in-waiting?” he asked, rhetorically. “She will be thankful for the company. Tell me girl, what are your accomplishments?”

Joanna’s heart pounded in her ears. She had little love for feminine past-times, but knew she was expected to say as much at court. All reason fled her, and she answered earnestly. 

“I prefer reading to embroidery and sewing, Your Majesty,” she said. “I do sing, but very poorly.”

“We will be the judge that,” he said. “At my coronation, it would honor me if you regaled us with a tune.”

“As your Your Majesty commands,” she said, and curtsied again. 

Knowing her audience to be over, Joanna began to back away, but her eyes caught momentarily on a flash of violet. A pair of eyes Joanna could only assume belonged to Prince Aerys Targaryen glittered in a smile that chilled Joanna’s blood. The black doublet he wore with a fine embroidered three-headed dragon only confirmed her suspicions—he was the prince, the husband of Princess Rhaella.

As soon as she had met his eyes, she looked away, and quickly grabbed Tywin’s arm as he led her back into the throng of the court.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Joanna thought after two days in King’s Landing, she’d never curtsied so many times in her life. She thought this as she rose from her position before Princess Rhaella in her chambers. The room was decorated with embroidered dragon tapestries, littered with settees, stools and chaise lounges for the princess and her ladies. Only now most of them were empty. Most of Rhaella’s handmaids perished in the fires at Summerhall. Joanna didn’t want to think what would happen to her if she stayed long in King’s Landing.

“Your Grace,” Joanna said, rising from her stooped position. “Please allow me to convey how happy I am to come to court as your lady-in-waiting, and how sorry I am for the tragedy at Summerhall.”

Rhaella smiled, her smile not touching her sad, lilac eyes. She rose, and came to stand before Joanna. Rhaella kissed Joanna’s cheeks.

“It is I who should thank you,” she said, taking a few locks of Joanna’s golden hair in her hands, and running her fingers down it affectionately. “I hope King’s Landing is not too lonely for you… as it has been for me. Maybe we will do each other some good.”

Joanna smiled. “I hope so, Your Grace.”

“Please sit,” Rhaella bid Joanna, indicating a stool just beside her small throne-like chair that overlooked the courtyard.

“How do you find King’s Landing?” Rhaella asked, grabbing her embroidery, placing it in her lap, but not working on it.

“It’s...” Joanna started, fearful of speaking her mind to the princess. “Different.”

“I’ve never been anywhere other than King’s Landing, so you’ll have to tell me what you mean by different,” Rhaella said.

“I come from Feastfires, a holdfast just outside of Casterly Rock,” Joanna said. “It’s beautiful there. Rolling hills, greener than any emerald in Westeros. There are streams so clear you can see every fish in them,” Joanna stared wistfully into the distance.

“Ah,” Rhaella said, a smile playing on her face. “So it doesn’t smell of shit? I’ve been beyond the walls of the Red Keep, I know what it’s like,” she added with a laugh.

This set Joanna more at ease. “No, Your Grace. Lannisport is filthy enough, but my father rarely let me go to market.”

“The future Lady of Casterly Rock can’t be seen among the fishmongers and brothels,” Rhaella surmised.

Joanna was silent a moment. “I still can’t quite get used to the idea.”

“Being the Lady of your House?” Rhaella asked. “A trifle less frightening than becoming queen of the realm.” Joanna opened her mouth to apologize, but was cut short by Rhaella. “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I merely mean to say that I understand.”

When wine had been poured for them by the servants standing by, Joanna drank thankfully to give herself something to do.

“Have you seen much of it?” Rhaella asked.

“What, Your Grace?” Joanna responded.

“King’s Landing. Or at least the Red Keep. With the war abroad, I don’t see us being able to take the air in Flea Bottom any time soon, but the courtyards are beautiful.”

“I have not seen the courtyard, Princess,” Joanna said hopefully.

“We’ll go. Though you are excellent company, Lady Joanna, I don’t like staying here just yet. I’m still reminded of those I lost.”

She rose, and Joanna followed suit. When they left Rhaella’s quarters, they were followed by four Kings Guard down to the courtyard.

Rhaella and Joanna walked in comfortable silence down to the courtyard, where the sun was shining, and warmed their backs. Rhaella unexpectedly took Joanna’s arm in hers, and the two of them walked arm in arm like they were long-lost sisters. It struck Joanna then just how lonely Rhaella must have truly been, if she was treating her this way after knowing her less than an hour.

“Stay here,” she bid the King’s Guard as they passed the entrance to the courtyard. When they were out of earshot, Rhaella let out a breath.

“I hate being followed everywhere. Here and the Godswood are just about the only places I can get them to leave me alone,” she said, and they sat under the arbor.

“I can’t imagine it,” Joanna said, unsure what else she could say.

“Let’s not talk of such sad things,” Rhaella said after a moment’s contemplation. “Tell me of your intended.”

Joanna chuckled and shook her head. “To tell you the truth, Princess, I don’t know him much. We did not grow up close, you see.”

“That could be a good thing,” Rhaella said with sad detachment. Joanna thought in that moment how horrible it must be to have been forced to marry one’s own brother.

“If I may speak plainly…” Joanna began.

“Of course, Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said, smoothing her grey dress out over her lap. “You have my strictest confidence.”

“He’s…” Joanna started, looking around. “More arrogant than I had hoped. When our betrothal was announced at his sixteenth Name Day celebration, he spoke rather unkindly towards the match.”

Rhaella smiled. “I’ve come to know him well enough in the years he’s been at court. He’s become rather close with Aerys. Aerys, Tywin and Steffon Baratheon have become somewhat inseparable to tell you the truth.”

“Have they?” Joanna asked, her interest piqued. She knew so little of Tywin, and she hoped for any information that might change her current perception of him.

“Yes,” she said. “I consider myself a good judge of character, Lady Joanna, but I never have considered Ser Tywin to be an arrogant sort of man. I think ‘proud’ is the word I would use.”

“I hope you are right, Princess,” Joanna said.

“Right about what?” a cold voice came from behind Joanna. A voice she’d never heard before.

The man who spoke rounded on Joanna and the Princess, and came out from behind the ivy-covered arbor. It was Prince Aerys, clad in black velvet. He leaned on the arbor with an arrogance Joanna thought was impossible for one man to have.

Joanna quickly rose, and curtsied for the prince. The prince took this as his opportunity to look down the neckline of Joanna’s olive green gown.

“We have not had the pleasure yet, my lady,” the prince said, and extended his hand. Joanna hesitated, looking to Rhaella, before giving the prince her hand, which he held too firmly for Joanna’s liking. He planted a lingering kiss on the back of it, and caressed the spot with the fingers of his other hand before letting it go.

“No, Your Grace,” Joanna said, all color draining from her face. Could the princess see she did not want these attentions? She hoped she would not be banished from court.

“Another lion in court,” he mused. “I’ll be riding with your lord father to the Stepstone islands to battle soon.”

“I am sure my father is honored by your presence, Your Grace. You are so brave to fight,” Joanna said, the words tasting like acid as they poured from her mouth. She hated false flattery, but knew when it came to the Targaryens, she must speak so.

Aerys let Joanna’s hand go, and in a display of possession, leaned down to his sister-wife, grabbed the back of her neck, and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. “Wife,” he said. “How is our son?”

Joanna noted the look of disgusted tolerance on Rhaella’s face. “He is well. The Septas will be happy to bring him to you, Aerys,” Rhaella said, only a trace of bitterness showing. “I wish you would see him more.”

“Hmmm,” he said, dismissively. He looked back at Joanna with a hungry eye. “My dear friend Tywin tells me you’re to be his bride when the time comes.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Joanna said.

He said nothing in response. Aerys smiled a crooked smile, and straightened his doublet. He leaned down again to kiss his wife’s neck, and straightened back up.

“I hope to see more of you, Lady Joanna,” Aerys said, and sauntered off before Joanna had a chance to reply.

Joanna looked to Rhaella in apology, but found that the princess’s expression enough to set her at ease.

“I am sorry, Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said. “My husband is… a complicated man.” She looked around herself before speaking her next words. “If the gods are good, he won’t come back from the war.”

Joanna sat in horrified silence. Should she agree? Or disagree?

“Don’t worry, Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said, looking years older than she actually was. “The gods are never that good.”

* * *

  
The light cast through the stained glass in the Great Sept of Baelor struck Joanna Lannister with awe. She had never seen a more beautiful sept in all her life. The Sept at Feastfires looked like a kitchen larder in comparison to the Great Sept. The entire coronation happened without Joanna truly paying attention, as there were so many sights to be seen. Not only the great building, but so many lords and ladies of the great houses of Westeros. People with faces unlike any she had ever seen, with skin as dark as midnight.

When the coronation was over, Joanna shook herself from her reverie, and took Tywin’s arm obligingly. When they reached the courtyards of the Red Keep, which had been lined with feast tables, they were seated among the first tables closest to the royal family.

Having been seated with her family, Joanna drifted from the conversation of the male members of her family. She could only listen to battle strategy so long before her mind started to wonder. It was in her wanderings that her eyes found the royal table. She watched sadly as Princess Rhaella’s eyes glazed over. Joanna wondered if anyone else saw Prince Aerys’s hand gripped so tightly on Rhaella’s knee. She looked at Tywin, and confirmed that at the very least, he knew, and was as powerless as anyone else to stop his prince.

Joanna lost count of the courses before the newly crowned king called her name. Joanna did not hear, having lost herself in a song that a harp player was plucking out, but her father drew her from her daze.

“The king bids you approach, dear,” Ser Jason said, and Joanna swallowed.

“What?” she asked. She had hoped the celebration would pass, and she could retire to her quarters early.

Tywin turned and looked at her expectantly. It was his look that made her move faster. She pushed her chair back, and walked to the table that seated the king and his family. It felt as if it took minutes or hours for her to get to the high table. When she was close enough, she curtsied.

“Your Majesty, many blessings on your coronation,” she bid the king, uncomfortably.

He nodded away her well wishes, uninterested in her flattery. “You did promise me a song, did you not?”

Joanna’s mouth hung open. She had hoped the king had forgotten her promise. “I did, my king.”

He looked about the courtyard, the sun beginning to set, and torches newly lit so that the celebrations might continue into the night. “I see as many musicians present as you could ever want for. Name your song, and any number of them will accompany you.”

Joanna’s heart hammered. She looked back at her father, and Tywin, to find their faces would brook no refusal. She turned back, and tried to think of a song that would fit the occasion.

“I know many songs, Your Majesty, but the song I would sing you, they may not know.”

“Name it, girl, and someone will play,” he said, the amused tone in his voice leaving.

Joanna swallowed. “For your coronation, my king, a song in High Valyrian would be best. Do any here know Se Vēzos Sīmonagon Drēje?”

The king smiled widely. “The Sun Rises True,” he said, approvingly. He looked out at the musicians who meandered about the courtyard.

Joanna’s ears hissed with the sound of her blood rushing as her heart beat faster. Would someone know it? It was a song she found in a book her father had, not a common song sung at taverns or wedding feasts.

Just when Joanna thought she would have to sing it on her own, an old woman came forward with her harp in tow. She bowed to the king, and sat silently.

Joanna shook a moment, and looked at the harpist. Their eyes met, and wordlessly, the harpist plucked the first few bars, and Joanna sang softly. Almost immediately the murmur of the crowd died down, and the only sound was that of Joanna and the harp, only Joanna could barely even hear herself.

She focused on the table the king sat at, and sang of Old Valyria and its days of glory. When she had finished, she looked upon the king finally, who had a wistful look in his eyes. A momentary silence met Joanna’s ears, when finally it was pierced by the sound of applause from all in attendance of the feast.

Joanna’s face burned bright red, and with a curtsey, sat down when King Jaehaerys had thanked her and bid her to sit. If Joanna had to recall the words Jaehaerys had spoken, she would not have been able to for her own life. She took up her seat between Tywin and Jason, and looked at her hands, whose sweaty palms she smoothed on her lap.

Had she looked up at all, she would have seen the faces of the men who watched her as she returned to her seat. She was clueless to how Tywin’s chest felt like it might burst as she sang, how Ser Barristan’s stomach did a somersault, and to how Aerys’s desire was incensed by her rendition of the Old Valyrian song.

Before long, the feast continued as it had, with the sun setting, and the king’s interests fell upon other things. Joanna, in an attempt to calm her nerves, reached for her glass of wine, and drank generously from it.

“You sing well,” Tywin offered quietly, that only the two of them might hear.

“Thank you, Ser Tywin,” Joanna said, and drank again from her goblet. “In truth, I don’t like it. It was the only thing the Septas taught me that I was any good at though.”

Tywin thought briefly of telling her he would like to hear her sing again, but thought better of it. Now was not the time and place to show such affections. Instead, he picked up a carafe of wine, and refilled Joanna’s cup.

When her heart had slowed down a bit, and her second glass of wine had smoothed over any rough edges of the night, Joanna sighed and sat back, listening to the din of the feast. Laughter and music and talking all became one, and Joanna felt her body and mind hum from the wine. When it all became too much, Joanna rose.

“Will you excuse me, father, Ser Tywin?” she said, and Tywin rose.

“Let me accompany you, Lady Joanna,” Tywin said dutifully.

“No, Ser Tywin, I will be alright,” she said. “The Red Keep is swarming with King’s Guard tonight, I think I’m safe. I’ll be but a moment.”

Tywin still stood unsurely. Joanna placed her hand upon his shoulder. “Really, Ser Tywin, I won’t be more than a moment.”

Tywin looked briefly at Joanna’s hand on his shoulder, and his lips parted a hair. His face grew hot, and he nodded against his better judgment.

When he sat, Joanna was satisfied, and walked off towards the privies, which were several tables back. When she reached them, she stood behind a line of ladies who wore the colors of houses Stark, Martell, Baratheon and Tyrell. They all greeted her enthusiastically, and introduced themselves in quick succession. Joanna swayed slightly. She couldn’t remember a single one of their names.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Joanna said, giggling slightly.

“I said you’re betrothed to Tywin Lannister, aren’t you?” the Martell girl said, her accent heavy.

“Oh,” Joanna said, closing her eyes and nodding. “Yes.” All thought and reason had fled her mind, and she could think of no better response. The girls all commented on how handsome and noble he looked, and how lucky Joanna was, to which she only nodded.

Their comments stopped abruptly, and turned to a chorus of “Your Grace” and “my prince” as the girls all curtsied.

Joanna turned and found Prince Aerys standing before her, looking down at her like a cat would look at a mouse.

“Your Grace,” Joanna said, and curtsied as best she could in her inebriated state.

“Ladies, you are all visions of loveliness,” Aerys said, causing each one of the girls to smile broadly. “But Lady Joanna, are you quite alright?”

Joanna opened her eyes as wide as she could, swaying on the spot. “Oh, yes, Your Grace, I am quite well.”

“But clearly you are not,” he said with a wry smile. “You should be seen to your chambers,” he said, taking her arm to steady her.

The ladies of houses Stark, Martell, Baratheon and Tyrell all bit their tongues, and their eyes widened as Prince Aerys led Joanna away from the privies, and away from the courtyard.

“Your Grace, I am quite well, really,” Joanna assured the prince, but tripped on an uneven stone, only to have Prince Aerys pull her upright.

“I’m afraid I’ll brook no refusal, my lady,” he said, and pulled her into a doorway that led into the halls of the Red Keep, which Aerys knew well, and Joanna did not. “You should sleep this off.”

Joanna followed drunkenly as Aerys rounded corner after corner.

“You’ve never been drunk before, have you?” Aerys asked tauntingly.

“No, my prince,” she said quietly.

“’My prince’,” Aerys repeated, and swung Joanna around to face him. “It sounds so lovely coming from your lips.”

Joanna opened her eyes to find herself in a dark hallway lit only by torches burning every ten feet.

“Your Grace, this isn’t the way to my quarters,” Joanna said, alarmed, but hoping not to anger her prince.

“Oh, I know,” he said coldly, backing her into a wall. “But I thought we might be able to get better acquainted here, you and I.”

“Your Grace, I really should get back to the feast, my father—“

“Your father and the rest of your family are too busy drinking and laughing to notice you’re gone,” he said, and just then, Joanna realized what trouble she really was in.

“I thought about waiting to take you later, but hearing you sing in High Valyrian made me want you even more,” he said, and pressed his mouth down on hers so hard that her head knocked against the stone wall. She knew it would bruise.

Aerys kept both her arms in his hands as he pressed down on her. He came back for air, and to look down at her to see if she would resist.

The look of fear in her eyes was all he needed to see.

“Stop,” she said with as much force as she could muster.

“Stop?” he asked with a laugh. “You dare ask your prince to stop?”

“Please, Your Grace, I am betrothed to Ser Tywin. I cannot—“ she started, and was cut off by another bruising kiss.

When he had silenced her, he pulled back again. “Ser Tywin, my father’s favorite knight, my friend… well here’s one thing I’ll be taking from him, and not the other way around,” he said, and before he could kiss her again, Joanna pushed him away, and her palm collided with his cheek with a resounding crack.

When she had done so, she froze in fear. She had just struck the prince, and the future king of Westeros. He looked back at her with such malice that she feared for her life. He struck her with the back of his hand, ten times as hard, splitting her lip, and sending her onto her hands and knees. She hit the floor with such force that her palms were scraped, and began to bleed.

Before she had the chance to push herself up to her feet, Aerys grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her the rest of the way up. He pushed her forcefully back into the stone wall, and tore at the neckline of her red gown.

Joanna sobbed, and held her hands up in self defense, and before Aerys could act again, a voice cut through the silence in the tunnel, freezing Aerys in his tracks.

“My prince,” the voice commanded. Joanna gasped, and looked for the source.

Ser Barristan stood with his palm on the hilt of his sword, walking towards the prince.

“What is it, Selmy?” Aerys asked insistently.

“Your father the king requests you at once,” he said, looking only at Joanna, whose tears fell silently.

“Can’t it wait,” he demanded.

“I’m afraid not, my prince,” he said, resolute in staying, but still hoping he would not have to draw his sword against his own prince.

Aerys looked back at Joanna and gritted his teeth. Without a word he stalked off down the corridor, leaving Barristan and Joanna standing alone. When his footsteps had died away, Joanna finally allowed herself to cry, and slumped down against the wall.

“My lady, are you alright?” he asked, looking to the cut on her lip. It bled, but it would close soon enough.

Joanna looked up at Ser Barristan and put a shaky hand on her lip to feel the blood there. She hissed when she found the cut, and began to panic when she realized there was physical evidence of her encounter with Aerys.

“Gods,” Joanna said. “I’m such a stupid girl,” she said, wiping at the tears on her face.

“No, my lady,” Barristan said, taking off his cloak, and placing it around her shoulders to cover up what flesh had been exposed. “This was not your fault.”

Joanna cried quietly. Unable to let her cry, Ser Barristan put his hand on the small of her back, and cupped her arm in his other hand to steady her. “Let me see you to your rooms.”

They walked a few paces before Barristan decided in her drunken and shaken state that Joanna would not make it quickly, and he scooped her up in his arms with no protest. They walked the empty hallways of the Red Keep, and Barristan brought Joanna to the corridor where the Lannister nobles were being housed. He set her down, and brought her into her room.

He drew the curtains, and before he left, he told her to lock the door behind him, and to not open it to anyone but him or one of her family members. She nodded, and he turned to leave. Before he could close the door, she stopped him by calling his name.

“Ser Barristan,” she said. He paused, and looked sadly at the diminished Lannister girl. “Thank you.”

He nodded after a moment. “Remember, lock the door, and don’t open for anyone who isn’t me or a Lannister.”

* * *

 

Tywin rubbed at his forehead. He’d had more than enough wine for the evening, so he placed his cup far enough away that he might not be tempted to drink any more. His thoughts dwelled on Joanna, and his feelings for her.

She was still only fourteen, but already a headstrong and well composed lady. And of course, she was going to be his wife in a few years. He barely knew her, and struggled with wanting to get to know her more. It was the match his father made for him, and everything his father did was wrong. Or was it?

His father lent out money so much that they were nearly bankrupt. His mistresses wore his late wife’s dresses and jewelry, and commanded Casterly Rock like they were the lady of the house. So of course when Tytos Lannister betrothed his son to a beautiful girl, Tywin had trouble accepting that it was in any way a good thing.

And yet, she was turning out to be… different than he had expected. And showing affection was a difficult thing for Tywin Lannister to do. Even if it had been a match he made himself, he thought he might still have trouble.

And perhaps it was the wine that helped him dwell on these thoughts, but tonight the matter seemed even more severe than it actually was. He looked around for her, if only to make a physical connection to the mental image he had of her, and found that he could not immediately place her.

He looked in the direction of the privies, where she had presumably gone off to, and found no one in a red dress standing there. He scanned the courtyard, looking at the groups of people standing about and talking, hoping he might find her amongst them. She was, after all, a new face in court, and many would want to talk to her.

Still, he did not find her. Fear grew in his stomach like ice, and he looked to the head table, at the place next to King Jaehaerys where Prince Aerys had sat not moments before. It was empty. Involuntarily Tywin sat up, scraping his chair behind him. His uncle, Ser Jason, looked up at his nephew.

Tywin lowered his voice, and kept his face impassive. “Where is Joanna?”

“Off to the privies I suppose—“ Jason started, and Tywin shook his head.

“Uncle Jason, I think you should go to her room. Don’t make a scene, but go there now,” he said, looking around to make sure no one caught on to their movements. They both reached the edge of the courtyard, and before they could enter the Red Keep, Tywin told his uncle he would be up in a moment.

“I’m going to check another place,” he said.

“Tywin, what’s going on?” Jason asked, nearing a shout.

Tywin breathed heavily and tried not to answer directly. “I hope nothing. But we’ll know faster if we go now.”

Jason nodded tersely, and they both went their separate ways.

As Tywin headed down to the tunnels below the Red Keep, he cursed himself for being so stupid, and not accompanying Joanna. He had been lulled into a false sense of security with how many people were in the courtyard that he had taken his eyes off Aerys entirely. Aerys, who was his sole worry for Joanna in King’s Landing.

When he made it to the tunnels where he knew Aerys sometimes brought kitchen wenches or servant girls, he didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried that he didn’t find Aerys or Joanna. His heart hammered as he ran up to the Lannister corridor of the Red Keep, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Barristan standing sentry outside Joanna’s door.

“Where is she?” he bellowed, pacing forward to Barristan. The two men stood face to face, and Tywin asked the question he had been fearing. “Did he…?”

Barristan shook his head, but sadly. “Almost. He’d gotten her down to the tunnels. She’s a bit roughed up, but I came just in time.”

Tywin pushed past Barristan without a word, and burst into Joanna’s room, where he found Jason cradling his daughter in his arms on her bed. Tywin was struck by the tears coming down his uncle’s cheeks—his uncle, stern and dutiful, was crying like a child. This unsettled him almost more than Joanna herself, who had a strange, detached look in her eyes, which were still wet with tears.

He quickly approached the bed, and sat beside Jason, putting his palm on Joanna’s face.

“Did he hurt you?”

Joanna knew he didn’t mean her face. She shook her head shamefully.

“How did he get you down there?”

Joanna’s face froze. “What?” she asked, for clarification.

Tywin’s jaw flexed. “How did he get you down there, Joanna?” She was silent. Her face contorted in disbelief. “You promised me you wouldn’t go anywhere unaccompanied.”

Joanna’s eyebrows furrowed. “I promised without knowing what I was promising against. Might it have been prudent to tell me the prince is a raping madman?”

“Now you know,” he said, fire in his eyes.

Jason let his daughter go, and took his nephew’s neck in his strong hand. “You knew.” It was not a question. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Tywin asked. “My father would still have commanded she be here.”

“But she would have known,” Jason warned, his dark eyes filling with rage.

“Father! Tywin!” Joanna shouted, and both men looked at Joanna. “Stop it.”

The two men separated, and looked at the fierce little lioness that had awoken in her. “None of this helps. It’s over.”

“But if even one person saw you leave with him, Joanna, they’ll have told half of King’s Landing by now,” Tywin argued.

“Oh fuck King’s Landing,” she said. “Fuck everyone here. You know my honor is still intact. My father knows. And if it’s ever in dispute, I’ll have the maesters examine me and proclaim it in the square myself.”

Tywin was silent.

“Unless you mean to break our betrothal because a few gossips say I lost my honor to Aerys Targaryen,” she challenged. “In which case, you’re a coward and a cad. And all of King’s Landing will come to see it.”

Tywin bristled. He straightened himself, and took a deep breath. “See that you get some rest, Lady Joanna.” At that, he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Joanna, Jason and Barristan in his wake. He walked the four doors down, and slammed the door to his own quarters before he allowed himself to feel the emotions he had been suppressing.

In his mind, he pictured Aerys Targaryen clawing at Joanna, and her helpless to defend herself. He remembered the real image of her, diminished in her bed, and cursed himself for not watching over her better. He tore off his gloves, his doublet, ripped off his boots, and sat on his bed with his head in his hands. In that moment, he did something he had never done before, and would only ever do once more: Tywin Lannister got down on his knees, and prayed. This prayer he prayed to the Maid, that his betrothed may never come to harm while he was away, and he swore that in exchange for her watching over Joanna, he would spend the rest of his life protecting her.


	4. Chapter 4

The maester’s hands were cold against Joanna’s neck as he cradled her head to look at her lip. The wound, which had been inflicted the night before, had stopped bleeding, but felt swollen and tender to the touch.

“Well,” the maester mumbled, “it will heal with no scar, but I am afraid it will bruise. The hands will heal faster.”

Joanna’s heart sank. She wanted to avoid seeing the princess, or anyone at court, until her split lip was more easy to conceal.

“Is there nothing you can do, Maester Pycelle?” Joanna asked desperately.

Maester Pycelle hummed in contemplation. “I could give you a salve, but it will sting, and it smells appalling.” He searched his patient’s eyes.

Joanna nodded. “I will take it. Will it help?”

“It should speed healing a bit. A day, maybe.”

Joanna sighed, and nodded. The maester chuckled, and placed his hand on Joanna’s upper thigh in a gesture she was meant to interpret as comforting, but felt was something else.

“Accidents do happen, my child. Just be more careful where you’re going, next time,” the middle-aged man said. When he did not move his hand, Joanna rose and walked to the maester’s table, where several potions and decoctions lay in orderly fashion. The maester followed, his chain clinking as he did so. He moved his sleeve out of the way, and reached for a small pot in the back. He placed it in Joanna’s hand.

“If you need anything else at all, dear girl, I will be glad to help,” he said.

Joanna nodded. “Thank you, Maester Pycelle. Shall I return what I do not use?”

“Oh no,” he said, walking her to the door of his laboratory. “Always good to have on hand for small scrapes and bruises.”

Joanna hoped she would never need it again, but took it all the same. She left Pycelle’s laboratory, and rejoined her handmaiden, who had agreed to escort her to see Pycelle.

“Thank you for waiting, Fiora,” she said, trying to ignore the sad look in her handmaiden’s eyes.

“It is nothing, my lady,” she said. They walked a while silently before Fiora spoke again. “My lady, I don’t mean to overstep, but… that cut. Your hands…”

“I’m just a bit clumsy, Fiora, that’s all.” Joanna almost convinced herself.

“My lady,” Fiora stopped before they got too close to the Lannister corridor. Joanna looked back. “I have seen a few ladies at court with those kinds of injuries. The ladies who have them don’t stay at court long.” Joanna could see in her eyes she knew.

“Fiora,” she started, taking one of her handmaid’s hands in hers reassuringly, “I would not be here if there was anything for me to be ashamed of.” She paused, making sure Fiora got her meaning. “And if anyone asks, that’s what you’ll tell them. Do you understand?” Joanna’s voice was not warning or threatening.

“Yes, Lady Joanna,” Fiora said, a look of relief on her face.

With the matter put behind them, they walked back to the corridor and settled back in to her chambers. When the door shut, Joanna looked in her mirror and touched the skin that had started to bruise. With a sigh she opened Pycelle’s salve, and put her nose to it. She recoiled, but scrunching her face, she dipped a finger in it, and smoothed it over her lip, and on the heels of her palms.

She paused at her vanity, and considered sending Fiora to tell Princess Rhaella she was not feeling well. Deciding it would look even worse if she did not show up at the princess’s quarters, Joanna secured the lid on the awful-smelling medicine, and turned to leave again for Princess Rhaella’s quarters.

“My lady, are you still going to the princess?” Fiora asked, while stripping Joanna’s bed linens.

“Yes, Fiora,” Joanna said, straightening herself up. “As I said before, I have nothing to be ashamed of. If King’s Landing wants to talk, let them.”

Fiora could not believe Joanna’s brazen attitude, but stopped her work nonetheless in order to escort her to Rhaella’s.

“I am sorry you are tasked with escorting me places, Fiora,” Joanna said. “My father was quite insistent.”

Joanna turned the knob of her door, and made to exit, but was stopped short at the figure before her door.

“Ser Barristan,” Joanna said in surprise.

“Lady Joanna,” Barristan said, bowing slightly. At this Joanna roused herself from her surprise and curtsied. “I wanted to see that you are alright this morning.”

“Oh,” Joanna said, looking back at Fiora, who had stopped just behind her. “Yes, I was actually about to take my leave to Princess Rhaella’s quarters.”

Ser Barristan set his jaw and nodded. “I understand why.” There was an awkward silence between the three of them. Ser Barristan spoke to Fiora. “I will escort Lady Joanna myself this morning.”

Joanna looked back at Fiora, whose suspicions were clear on her face.

“I’m quite safe with Ser Barristan,” Joanna assured her. “I will find an escort back this afternoon.”

Fiora nodded, and the matter was settled. Barristan and Joanna walked together a few yards.

“I wanted to thank you,” Joanna said, stopping in her tracks. “For what you did.”

“It was nothing, Lady Joanna,” Barristan said plainly. “Any decent man would have done it.”

“It takes more than a decent man to stand up to a prince, Ser Barristan,” Joanna said with a wry smile. “I don’t think I could count on two hands the number of men in King’s Landing who would have done that.”

“The ones who matter would,” Barristan replied, and resumed his pace.

“’The ones who matter’,” Joanna repeated. “I have been asking myself all night and this morning if Tywin would have done the same.”

Barristan was silent, his face pensive.

“I am sorry, Ser Barristan, I should not have said that. I know that Tywin is a comrade in arms, and a friend of yours. I feel that I can trust you is all.”

“You can,” he said earnestly. “I will never betray your confidence.”

This warmed Joanna’s heart.

“But he would have, Lady Joanna. Tywin would have done the same.”

“He acted like a bloody cur last night,” she said, remembering Tywin’s words. _How did he get you down there, Joanna?_

“I saw him after he left your room, Lady Joanna,” Barristan said, looking sidelong at Joanna as they walked. “I’ve never seen him so shaken in the years that I have known him.”

Joanna’s eyebrows furrowed. Why had he acted so abysmally then?

“In truth, I don’t really know Tywin all that well,” Joanna said. She felt a pull at her heart at the thought. “I’m to marry him, and at every turn I feel that he does not approve of the match… Doesn’t approve of me.”

Barristan took a breath, and thought on her words. “I think it will take time. Few nobles are given the chance to get to know their intended before their wedding. Yet an arranged marriage can be a happy one.”

“Are you betrothed, Ser Barristan?” Joanna asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Barristan smiled sadly. “Yes, Lady Joanna.”

“You don’t sound convinced of your own words,” Joanna coaxed.

Barristan’s breath caught in his chest as he smiled. “I do believe them, Lady Joanna.” He left it at that.

When they had reached Princess Rhaella’s wing of the Red Keep, Ser Barristan stopped. Before he knocked on the door to the suite of rooms, he paused.

“In a week’s time, Tywin will be gone with the rest of us to fight. I know it’s not enough time to see what I see. But I know that he will fight like seven hells to get back to you.”

Joanna swallowed, and placed a hand on her stomach. She breathed in, and found that it came surprisingly ragged. Lost for words, Joanna nodded.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Barristan took Joanna’s hand in his, and kissed the back of it reassuringly. When he let go, he knocked on the door for her. When the door had been answered, and Barristan was sure that Joanna was safely inside the princess’s suite, he walked away.

* * *

Rhaella stood before Joanna, taking stock of her injury. Joanna’s heart pounded as Rhaella did so. Rhaella’s expression betrayed nothing of what she felt. Ever mindful of her duty as a princess, Rhaella was not one to quickly jump to conclusions.

“I think I can guess what happened, if the rumors are true,” Rhaella said, breaking her silence.

“Your Grace, I am afraid for once the rumors of King’s Landing are false,” Joanna said, her stomach dropping. So word traveled fast in King’s Landing. That did not surprise her.

“So my husband did not attack you?” Rhaella said, throwing all her cards out at once. Joanna was surprised at how candid Rhaella was.

“No,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, he did, but… Ser Barristan… intervened.”

Rhaella’s face fell, and she sighed. “I am relieved to hear that, Lady Joanna.”

Rhaella turned away from Joanna and sat on a stool by her dining table. She said nothing.

“Your Grace,” Joanna started, approaching the table. “I hope this has not displeased you. By which I mean, I hope that you’ll let me stay in King’s Landing as your lady-in-waiting.” Joanna stopped, feeling like she was close to making a fool of herself. Why had she just said that? She did not want to stay in King’s Landing. Being sent away would look horrible, but the idea of upsetting Rhaella deeply affected her.

“Lady Joanna, please sit,” Rhaella said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Joanna did as she was told.

“I don’t wish to send you away,” Rhaella said. “You don’t deserve such treatment from my husband. But, he is the prince, and one day he will be king. Do you understand what kind of position that puts me in? All of us?”

Joanna nodded.

“So, I can only do so much to protect my ladies-in-waiting, my servants…” Rhaella appeared lost in her thoughts a moment. In that silence, Joanna had enough time to wonder just how many women Aerys had preyed upon.

“I can’t change him,” Rhaella continued. “So while you are here, you must take care.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Joanna said, letting out the breath she had unconsciously been holding.

“But, with only one week until all the forces encamped around King’s Landing will leave, you will not need to be quite so on guard for quite some time.”

Joanna nodded.

“Until they and my husband ride off to battle, I will have a member of my King’s Guard see you back to your chambers every time you leave my own.”

Joanna took a steadying breath, attempting to stifle the tears of relief that threatened to fall. She looked upwards to keep her composure. Rhaella reached over to Joanna, and grabbed both her hands. Surprised, Joanna looked back at the princess.

“I am sorry you must share in my own personal misfortunes,” she said, her lilac eyes showing how weary she really was.

“I hope…” Joanna started, and cleared her throat to start again. “I hope I do not overstep my bounds, princess, but… unlike most of King’s Landing, I do keep my word when I say I will not betray your confidence. I am here for you, princess. What we share within these walls, I will not repeat to anyone.”

Rhaella gave a half smile. She tightened her hold on Joanna’s hands.

“I _thought_ you might do me some good,” she concluded.

* * *

Rhaella had poured her heart out that afternoon. She had exposed herself completely to Joanna, who listened intently and without judgment. Joanna offered advice where necessary, words of consolation, and when necessary, simply embraced Rhaella.

When they reached a lull in conversation, a knock came at the door.

“Wait a moment,” Rhaella commanded, wiping at her tears to clear away evidence of her emotions. Joanna stood, and turned to Rhaella.

“I’ll see to this,” she said, putting her hand on Rhaella’s arm. “I can at least give you a moment while I stall them.” Rhaella nodded in agreement, and left her sitting room for her bedchamber to pull herself together.

Joanna went to the door, and opened it. Tywin stood outside the door, and Joanna’s mouth gaped slightly.

“Ser Tywin,” Joanna said, curtsying. He bowed in response. They shared a weighted silence and merely looked at one another. How could a single moment carry so many meanings?

Joanna flushed when she recalled what Ser Barristan had told her about him being upset last night. How did he put it? Shaken? And of course she then recalled Tywin’s insinuation that being attacked was somehow her fault, and she pressed her lips together in a thin line.

“The princess is in disposed at the moment; you’ll have to wait if you wish to speak to her,” she said dutifully.

“I came for you,” Tywin said quietly.

“Oh,” Joanna said after a moment. “The princess has volunteered her King’s Guard to escort me back, until…”

“Very well,” Tywin said, turning to walk away to hide his disappointment.

“ _No_ ,” Joanna said, and instinctively reached for Tywin’s arm to hold him back. Tywin looked at Joanna’s hands on his arm, and then looked at Joanna. “I’ll just tell the princess. Wait for me.”

Joanna let Tywin’s arm go, and retreated back into Rhaella’s suite to bid her farewell. Tywin could still feel Joanna’s hand on his arm, and he unconsciously touched the spot with his hand. He stood outside the door uncomfortably a moment, and was both relieved and terrified when Joanna returned.

Joanna took her place beside Tywin, and they began to walk at a slow pace.

They were walking in silence, a challenge to who would speak first, and what they would say. Joanna thought on all that Barristan had said that morning, and acted on impulse.

“Will you take supper with me tonight, Ser Tywin?” Joanna blurted. Tywin’s pace slowed to a halt, and Joanna thought in that moment she had made a terrible error.

He looked at her a moment in contemplation. Joanna felt her face grow hot. Without a word, he gave a single nod, and resumed his pace.

Resigned to walking in silence, Joanna turned her thoughts inwardly, and expected no more from Tywin. It frustrated her to no end that this man she was going to marry was so guarded and reserved. Now that she thought on it, she thought that Tywin had not really ever spoken _to_ her, only _at_ her. At this thought, Joanna grew tired and sad.

They reached the Lannister quarters, and when they reached Joanna’s door, she opened the door and waited for him to speak. To say anything.

Out of frustration, Joanna broke their silence. “I will expect you at sundown, Tywin.”

Waiting for his response, Joanna bristled when Tywin simply nodded, and walked to his own bedchamber. Once in her room, Joanna closed her door a little more forcefully than she intended, and let out an exasperated grumble.

“ _Gods damn that man_!”


	5. Chapter 5

Ser Barristan’s laugh was gentle. Not teasing or mirthful, but a kindly chuckle as he shook his head in the armory.

“You’ve got to open your damned mouth and talk, Tywin,” Barristan said, handing another sword to the smith to be sharpened. The forces of King’s Landing were leaving soon, and the smith was working day and night to serve each of the lords’ men. 

“I don’t know the first thing about her,” Tywin reasoned.

“Who says you need to know anything about her?” Steffon Baratheon chimed in from across the smith’s hut. His words were loaded with meaning. He flashed a devilish grin and pulled the chainmail from over his head. “Just tell her you may never come back, and you’d hate to die never knowing—“ Tywin threw a glare Steffon’s way “—Never knowing a woman’s touch.”

“Do the girls still fall for that with you, Steffon?” Barristan asked. “Half the women in King’s Landing probably think they were your first.”

“Joanna is going to be my wife, and I’ll not sully her reputation or her honor,” Tywin said, a little more gruff than he intended.

The three young men were quiet a moment.

“You’ve got to forget she was your father’s choice, Tywin,” Barristan reasoned.

“He’s a damn fool, and if the match is a good one, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Tywin said, absently feeling the newly sharpened blade of a sword.

“There are worse things a father can hold over a son,” Steffon said with reason. “If I had a beauty like her to warm my bed at night, I’d let my father tease me in front of all King’s Landing every day until his death.”

“She is quite a remarkable girl,” Barristan said carefully. “From what I’ve seen. Treat her like you one of us.”

Tywin gave his friend a reproachful look.

Barristan sighed. “Don’t think of her as a lady. I mean to say, find out what she likes. Seven hells, you told me you’d only met her once before she came to King’s Landing. She had a life before she came here. Ask her what it was like. The rest will take care of itself." 

Tywin set the blade down and began taking off bits of his armor, and laying it on a nearby table to have new leather straps attached before leaving King’s Landing. He looked outside, and regretted that the sun was getting so low. He would have to see her soon.

“If it’s this hard to talk to a woman, Tywin,” Steffon said, a twinkle in his eye, “it _must_ be love.”

Wanting to avoid seeing his friend gloat over his conclusions, Tywin gave him a parting glare. He turned and stalked out of the hut, and shook his head Steffon’s jeers that followed him.

* * *

Joanna wrung her hands as she watched the sun set over her balcony. The caw of peacocks, which she had grown accustomed to, now were a nuisance to her.

To calm her nerves, Joanna poured herself a glass of wine, and drank it on the balcony. She had no desire to be as drunk as she was at the coronation, but anything was better than the nerves clawing at her.

“My Lady?” Fiora’s gentle voice came from behind her.

Joanna turned expectantly.

“Ser Tywin is here,” Fiora said, suppressing a small smile.

Joanna stepped down from the balcony, and pushed aside the gauze curtains that were drawn. Ser Tywin stood in the doorway, handsome and dignified in deep crimson brocade.

Joanna and Tywin gave a rigid curtsy and bow, and Joanna motioned towards the small dining table. Tywin pulled Joanna’s chair out, and sat after her.

When they both had wine before them, Tywin took a deep breath.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t start by saying how sorry I am about how I behaved last night,” he said. Joanna looked surprised. “I should have told you sooner. I did not want you to be afraid in King’s Landing, but I see now that it put you in danger anyway.”

Joanna touched her lip, feeling how tender it was. “I am lucky all I walked away with is this, and a few scrapes.” She looked at the heels of her palms, which were healing already. “Let’s not dwell on what happened.”

Tywin nodded, and drank from his wine.

Joanna, feeling now the effects of her first glass of wine, took a deep breath and spoke before she could think twice. “Can we… pretend that this match between us wasn’t your father’s doing?”

“What?” Tywin didn’t understand her meaning.

“I get the feeling that I’m the last person you would want to marry, but part of me hopes that you’ve been so cold towards me because this is a match your father made. Not you.”

Tywin twisted his cup on the table and thought a moment. “It’s not easy for me. Doing anything my father tells me. But you’re not the last person I would want to marry.”

“I’m not?” Joanna’s stomach stirred.

“No,” Tywin said simply. “I don’t think I’ve been very fair to you, Joanna. I just don’t know you.”

Joanna could tell the words were difficult for Tywin to say.

“I don’t think you can really know a person in a matter of days,” Joanna said.

“No,” Tywin said, his eyes lingering on her flaxen hair.

“It’s a start,” Joanna said with a smile.

Joanna’s heartbeat slowed, and she immediately felt an enormous weight had been taken off her chest.

As they began their meal, so too did their first real conversation.

“Tell me about what it was like to grow up at Casterly Rock,” Joanna said.

Tywin weighed his words. “Under my father, it was insufferable. When my mother was still living, there was at least some decorum.”

“I would think in a castle so big, it would be easy to escape what you did not wish to see,” Joanna reasoned. “I’ll never forget seeing it for the first time. Towering over the cliffs, the sound of the waves crashing over the rocks. It is a grand home, Tywin.”

Tywin nodded. “It is that. Grandiosity is overrated. I imagine there is more merit to an idyllic home.” 

Joanna gave a small laugh. “Idyllic is a kind way to put it—you must think I am just a simple country girl.”

“Feastfires overlooks the Sunset Sea just the same as Casterly Rock. But I mean that you must have had a happy home. It seemed that way to me.”

Tywin had come to Feastfires before the Lannister forces set out for King’s Landing. From there, leaving behind her younger siblings, Joanna had left with the Lannister army. 

“I do miss it,” Joanna said. “The moors especially. In the spring, the heather is so thick you can walk across the tops without touching the ground. My father’s library.”

“The Red Keep has a library,” Tywin offered. “It is used mostly by the Maesters, but all who are guests in the Red Keep may use it.”

“I wager it puts the small library of Feastfires to shame. I think I’ve read every book twice.”

“Most girls would not care for reading,” Tywin said. “Most are content with their embroidery.”

“Ser Tywin,” Joanna said, a hint of fierceness in her voice, “I would think you would know by now that I am not like most girls.”

“No, I daresay not,” Tywin said. “But, all the same, it would be my pleasure to take you there.”

Joanna blushed, and stifled a smile. “I would like that, thank you.”

Fiora came into Joanna’s quarters with a small tray of cakes, and set it on the table. She left for the forechamber of Joanna’s quarters, leaving Tywin and Joanna alone again.

Joanna looked over the tray, and chose a honey cake, which she ate with her hands, with no regard to her manners. Tywin watched in amusement, but said nothing of it.

“Casterly Rock’s library is quite large as well,” he offered.

“Yes,” Joanna said, putting her cake down. She swallowed and placed her finger’s to her lips. “I remember.”

Tywin had forgotten she had seen it. The night of his Name Day celebration. The night he had been betrothed to her.

“When all of this is over. When we… return to the Westerlands, it will be yours too.”

Joanna’s face colored red. She felt the familiar lull of too much wine, and pushed her glass away.

“I’ve had too much I think,” she said, smoothing the hair on her temple back.

“Are you alright?” Tywin asked.

“Yes, but it’s a good time to stop,” she said with a sigh.

“I should go,” Tywin said. 

“No, I didn’t mean for you to—“

“The hour is late, and you should rest,” Tywin said, rising to stand beside Joanna’s chair. Joanna stood to meet Tywin, and before she had a chance to sway at all, Tywin placed his hands on either side of her arms. “Sit,” he said. “You need to drink some water.”

Joanna sat, and allowed Tywin to pour her a glass of water from a carafe on another table. When he brought it back, he leaned against the table as she drank, looking down on her. 

“I haven’t got a head for wine,” Joanna said after she drank half.

“That’s good,” he said, crossing his arms. “You should keep it that way.”

Joanna nodded. She looked back up at Tywin expectantly. Having sensed this, Tywin straightened himself, and grabbed Joanna’s hand.

“If you’ll permit me, I’ll escort you from Princess Rhaella’s quarters tomorrow, and take you to see the library of the Red Keep. The number of days before I leave grows short, and I am a man of my word. Goodnight, Joanna.” He placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Tywin,” she said. He nodded, and walked out of Joanna’s quarters.

* * *

“What did you say, Your Grace?” Joanna asked dreamily.

Rhaella smiled, and cleared her throat. “I asked if you wished to take the air in the courtyard.”

“Oh,” Joanna said, smiling despite her lapse in attention. “Yes, I could do with a walk.”

Joanna and Rhaella stood to take their walk, much like their first day together. A cadre of King’s Guard followed the two women, who made their way through the corridors of the Red Keep.

“You haven’t said a word about last night,” Rhaella said, keeping her eyes forward, looking like a cat that had cream for supper. 

Joanna looked sidelong at her, and blushed. “I haven’t.”

Rhaella took Joanna’s arm in hers. “Well?”

Joanna smiled and shook her head. “It was a start. He’s a Lannister. We don’t bare our feelings so easily.”

“No,” Rhaella conceded, “but he’s an _especially_ enigmatic one.”

“I don’t think I’m going to solve the enigma of Tywin Lannister in four days,” Joanna said.

Rhaella sighed and smiled. “I can think of no better reason to fight in battle than to get home to the woman you’re betrothed to. And I can think of no better thought to comfort you in the months to come, that you will have getting to know him to look forward to." 

Joanna smiled and said nothing.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said. “I will have to live vicariously through your romance.”

“' _Romance'_ ,” Joanna guffawed.

“Oh, but it is,” Rhaella said. “And I think you know it.”

The two of them laughed and walked a bit more in silence. After a while, Joanna did not recognize the path they were taking.

“This isn’t the way to the courtyard,” Joanna said.

“It’s a shortcut,” Rhaella said, teasingly.

“But not to the courtyard, Your Grace,” Joanna said, looking backward. “The courtyard is back that way.”

“Is it?” Rhaella asked with false confusion.

“The camps are this way, Your Grace,” Joanna said. Suddenly she wished to turn back.

“They are, aren’t they?” Rhaella said, and stopped walking. “I thought it might be nice to take a walk amongst the soldiers and knights, to boost morale.”

Joanna took up her place beside Rhaella as she continued to walk, and she silently admired the dutiful princess. Even in her own personal turmoil, Princess Rhaella thought of others.

“And,” Rhaella said, as if she had not finished her thought, “I thought it might be a good excuse to see Ser Tywin.”

 

“I’m seeing him this afternoon,” Joanna reasoned. “He’s taking me to the library.”

Rhaella patted Joanna’s arm. “Trust me, Lady Joanna,” she said quietly.

They passed into the camps, where all they could see was tents, fires burning, soldiers and knights, tethered horses. They heard the sound of blacksmiths hammers, the clang of steel as men sparred. 

Rhaella and Joanna stopped at the encampments of each of the houses represented in King’s Landing. They were met with surprise and awe.

Joanna watched as Rhaella greeted all, lords, squires and foot soldiers alike. She treated them all the same, smiling sweetly at them, and wishing them good fortune in the battles to come. Joanna decided then that she truly was a princess of the people. She saw how much they loved her in their faces as they walked away.

The colors of the banners changed from green to white, and now to red, where the eleven thousand Lannister forces had set up camp. 

“ _Your Grace_ ,” a surprised voice said, as so many had already. Joanna looked around to find her young cousin Kevan, who carried an armful of newly made arrows up to his chin like firewood.

“Princess Rhaella, allow me to introduce you to my cousin,” Joanna said. “Kevan Lannister, Tywin’s younger brother.”

The boy fumbled and bowed, spilling more than a few arrows, causing Rhaella to laugh gently.

“No need for that, young Ser, you are busy. We wanted to come see the men. Where is your uncle?”

“Ser Jason is at the blacksmith, Your Grace,” he said uncomfortably. Joanna knelt down and picked up the arrows he had dropped, and held them in her hands.

“Where is your brother, then?” Rhaella asked, allowing a momentary glance over to Joanna.

“Tywin is drilling the archers, Your Grace. With Steffon Baratheon and Barristan Selmy.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Rhaella said. “Will you take us to them, Kevan?”

Kevan’s face lit up. “Of course, princess.” And off he went, leading the two women and their King’s Guard through the tents to a clearing for the archery field. 

The sound of arrows whirring through the air was unmistakable. Joanna had heard it all her life as her father trained the Lannister archers. He was a master archer. After a fair bit of pleading and pouting, Joanna had convinced Jason to teach her archery as well. 

Joanna found him pacing up and down the line of archers, shouting commands. Tywin looked at home with the men, running drills in his regal, red Lannister armor. He reached the end of his row, and turned to walk back, his eye catching on Rhaella and Joanna.

“ _Hold_!” he shouted to the men, who obeyed his command. “Lower your bows!” He walked quickly over to Joanna and Rhaella, and as he did, each of the Lannister men noticed the princess and future Lady of Casterly Rock.

“Your Grace, this is a surprise,” he said when he reached them, bowing. “A pleasant one. I did not expect to see you among the soldiers.”

“Ser Tywin,” Rhaella said, looking out at the Lannister men who bowed, all smiles on their faces. She spoke loud enough that the archers could hear, but not so loud as a shout. “I am a citizen of this realm as much as these men. I merely wanted to see the work they are doing. I am quite sure we will be victorious against these so-called Ninepenny Kings who seek to usurp my father’s rule.”

Rhaella motioned for all the soldiers to rise, and they did so, expectant looks still on their faces.

“Ah, and I see Sers Barristan and Steffon,” Rhaella said, drawing their eyes. They came to their side within a moment, and bowed.

“Your Grace, Lady Joanna,” Ser Barristan greeted. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Yes, please, Ser Barristan,” Joanna said. 

Tywin nodded, and turned to his archers, shouting commands.

“Archers! Nock! Draw! Loose!” A fury of arrows met their targets, and Princess Rhaella applauded politely. 

“Excellent met,” she said.

“Carry on, archers!” Tywin bid, allowing the five of them to speak.

Tywin and Joanna’s eyes met as the five of them exchanged pleasantries amidst the sounds of the camp. Joanna held onto the arrows she had picked up for Kevan, and stared at the archers longingly. She was in the presence of the princess, her betrothed, and the Lannister soldiers. Target practice in her father’s holdfast was one thing. To pick up a bow in the presence of others was another thing.

“Lady Joanna,” Steffon said, holding his hand open for the arrows. “I’ll take those. Unless you mean to take up arms and fight the Blackfyres.” He smiled a wolfish grin.

“I…” Joanna said, looking at the arrows, hesitating, and giving them to Steffon.

“Oh, go on then,” a voice called from behind the five of them. All turned to find Ser Jason walking up to them, his squire in tow. He bowed before the princess before kissing his daughter’s forehead.

“ _Father_ ,” Joanna chided quietly.

 He chuckled. “Weren’t so shy when you demanded I teach you, were you? Go on then, you know you want to.”

“Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said in shock. “I didn’t know you practiced archery.”

“It’s not exactly a _womanly art_ ,” Joanna said. “Not a talent to share at court, Your Grace.”

“Thank the gods we aren’t at court, then! I would be honored if you would show me,” she said. She looked over at Tywin, whose expression, as ever, was impossible to read. Joanna looked at the princess, who gave a half smile, and knew then that Rhaella would brook no refusal. She played the role of matchmaker very well, Joanna thought ruefully.

Joanna thought she might die of embarrassment. Her face and neck flushed pink, a stark contrast to her dandelion yellow dress. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Steffon Baratheon, thoroughly intrigued, handed the clutch of arrows back to Joanna, who took them back.

Tywin bid the archers to stop, which only made Joanna more nervous. He then commanded the archers to clear their targets, giving Joanna enough time to grab a longbow and take her place on the range.

She looked over at Tywin, sure that she would make a fool of herself and miss every shot. She commanded the attention of all the archers on the range. Joanna knew that not only was she at risk of embarrassing herself, but she risked embarrassing her father as well, as the commander of the Lannister troops.

She looked at her father for reassurance, which he readily gave with a self-assured nod.

Joanna took her stance, and nocked an arrow, drawing it back. She inhaled, and released her arrow on the exhale. It found its target, near center. She could not hear the murmur of awe the men gave as she reached for another arrow stuck in the ground. All sound fled her ears as she focused.

Joanna filled the center half of the target with arrows, an impressive display for any archer, not to mention a woman.

When she had run out of arrows, she let her bow drop to her side, and turned around to find the Lannister men whooping and cheering. She smiled at their approval, and handed the bow to the nearest archer.

Jason clapped loudest, and came to his daughter’s side, kissing her cheek. Joanna could see the pride in his expression. He put his arms around his daughter’s shoulders, and held her tightly. Joanna held onto her father in the embrace, and her heart filled with happiness at his approval.

“I stand corrected,” Steffon said, “it looks like you _do_ have hopes to sail to fight the Blackfyres. Nevermind, men, we need only one rowboat and Joanna Lannister to end the war.”

This drew laughter, and Joanna saw in Tywin’s eyes the hint of a smile, which was all the praise she needed in that moment.

The archers were commanded to continue drilling, and Rhaella and Joanna’s survey of the Lannister camp was over. They walked with Ser Jason to his commander’s tent, and were offered wine.

“Oh no, Ser Jason,” Rhaella said. “Thank you, but I must retire for the afternoon and see to Rhaegar.”

Joanna looked to Rhaella desperately. Was she going to leave her here? It was far too early for her to retire yet.

The smile hidden in Rhaella’s eyes was enough for Joanna. She widened hers at the princess in pleading.

“I trust someone will see Lady Joanna back to the Red Keep,” she said, and before an answer was given, she turned and walked out of the camp, leaving Joanna there alone with her father, Tywin, Barristan and Steffon.

Jason smiled at the ground and shook his head. “It appears, Tywin, that you must escort Joanna back to the Red Keep.” At that, he too left the tent, and shouted for Kevan, who was squire to Jason. 

Kevan, having been bid to take Tywin’s armor, began undoing buckles, ever eager to prove himself.

“Well then, Barristan, we know when we’re not needed anymore,” Steffon said, clapping Barristan on his armored shoulder. “Let’s go.” At that the two of them departed.

When Tywin was clear of his armor, he stood awkwardly before Joanna. He shocked her when he extended his arm for her. She took it gently. 

“Puppeteers, the lot of them,” he said quietly into her ear.

Joanna laughed. “Ser Tywin, I think that’s the first joke I have ever heard you make.” She looked up at him with her emerald eyes, and he merely smirked.

“You may wish to write the date down, in case anyone ever accuses me of being humorless,” he said, and walked her out of the tent, down the rows of the camp. Joanna and Tywin walked silently, but Joanna looked at Tywin intermittently, and saw the way he stood just a bit taller, walking her past the soldiers. 

Their feet finally met the cobblestones of the Red Keep, and they made their way through the corridors to the library of the Red Keep, which was situated very near to the Tower of the Hand.

“You’re a fine archer,” Tywin offered. 

“Thank you,” Joanna said.

“You did say you weren’t like most other girls,” Tywin said, bemused. “You weren’t wrong.”


	6. Chapter 6

Their footsteps echoes across the walls of the library of the Red Keep. Joanna’s breath hitched when she saw the wall-to-wall shelves, full to the tops with scrolls and bound books. The only people in the great room were maesters, their chains tinkling quietly as they walked to and from tables and shelves.

“I’ve never seen _anything_ like this,” Joanna whispered to Tywin.

“If you think this is a sight to behold, I imagine you would be catatonic at the Citadel,” Tywin said, satisfied with Joanna’s reaction. 

Tywin walked into the room, and Joanna followed. When they reached the circular in the middle of the room, a maester nodded to Tywin, and Tywin turned to Joanna.

“You can take anything you like, so long as you keep a record with Maester Yaren,” Tywin said, his voice low.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Joanna said, her eyes flitting from shelf to shelf.

“Might I suggest…” Tywin said, drawing Joanna over to a shelf on the far side of the great hall. “This shelf.”

Joanna looked at the spines excitedly, and her face widened in a smile. “ _Histories and Mysteries of the Seven Kingdoms,”_ Joanna said as she read one title. “ _The Doom of Valyria_ ,” she said with false seriousness.

Tywin smirked, and walked further down the shelf, and reaching up beyond where Joanna could reach, and plucked a compact tome from the shelf. He passed his hand over the cover a moment, and handed it to Joanna. She looked at the title, and her expression transformed to one Tywin had never seen before.

The shadow of a smile still played on her face, but there was a seriousness there that worried Tywin. Had he upset her.

“ _The Women Who Made Westeros_ ,” she said reverently.

“I thought you might enjoy this one. There aren’t many like it, which isn’t surprising, but there are some admirable women in there. Women who are not often fairly given their due.”

Joanna’s eyebrows knit together, and she kept her eyes on the book.

“Is something wrong, Lady Joanna?” Tywin asked.

“No,” she said. Perhaps there was so much more to Tywin than the arrogance and pride he projected to those at court. She looked up at him, placed her hand on his chest for support, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

Tywin closed his eyes as her lips met his cheek like butterfly wings—so light he wasn’t sure they were really there. As soon as she had done it, she went back onto her heels, and turned to the bookshelf to avoid Tywin’s eyes.

When she turned back, she saw that his face had flushed, and he flexed his jaw a moment.

“Thank you,” she said. 

Tywin and Joanna walked to the circular and put the volume down for Maester Yaren to record in his log. When he had done so, he pushed the book towards Joanna and nodded. Without saying so, Joanna and Tywin both knew their visit to the library was over, and they made their way towards the Lannister wing.

Joanna wrapped her arms around the book, as if the book might protect her from whatever feelings she was experiencing in that moment.

At Joanna’s door, they stopped, and looked at on another expectantly.

Tywin shook himself out of his daze, and spoke. “Earlier today, your father bid me tell you that we will all be dining together tonight. At the camps. I’m to bring you down.” 

“Oh?” Joanna said, surprised. Ser Jason had been largely leaving Joanna to the care of her handmaid. Being in command of eleven thousand forces required his full attention. “Alright. Who is ‘we’?”

Tywin looked down as he recalled the names. “Barristan and Steffon. The Lord Hand of the King, Ormond Baratheon. Kevan and Tygett of course,” he said. “A few others I believe. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

“Of course,” Joanna said. “I will be ready then.”

She looked at her book, smiled, and looked back at Tywin. “Thank you,” she said. She had so many more things she wanted to say, but had not the courage to say them. For now, she settled for a small curtsey, and retreated to the safety of her room.

* * *

The men drank deeply from their cups, and wine flowed freely in the camp that night. It was one of the last nights before the camp left, and all around the table were happy to make the most of the night. 

Joanna, however, drank nothing but water, opting to keep her head clear. Now that the mysteries of wine consumption were now known to her, it had lost its appeal entirely. It allowed her to sit in clear-headed observation as the men around her laughed and told stories.

“The archers were quite taken with Lady Joanna today,” Steffon said, raising his cup to her. “I think they would all feel a bit more emboldened if we brought our own Visenya or Rhaenys along with us.”

“Alas, Steffon,” Jason said, putting his large hand on his daughter’s knee lovingly. “She has not a dragon.”

“Nor a head or heart for war, Ser Steffon,” Joanna chimed in, speaking for the first time since dinner had begun.

“Oh?” Steffon asked, his brow quizzical, but still not challenging. “Forgive me, Lady Joanna, when I ask why then you learned archery?” 

The table grew silent. Joanna cleared her throat. “Ser Steffon, archery has many merits. It requires concentration, precision, accuracy. If ones temperament is suited to it, it can be quite relaxing.”

“This is all true, Lady Joanna,” Steffon said, waving his cup about, motioning towards the other lords and knights at the table. “But I think I’m not the only one who sees it for its practicality. Its utility. You mean to say you think arrows were only meant for targets?” 

Joanna smirked. If Steffon was hoping to get a rise out of her, he would be sorely mistaken. “You misunderstand me, Ser Steffon. I merely meant to say that I do not enjoy it for its intended utility in combat. I understand if not in battle, archery has its place in the fields and forests for hunting, but as I have the inclination for neither, I will merely enjoy the simple act of it. Ladies are all expected to sit in stuffy rooms embroidering pillows and only receiving basic physical activity by walking about gardens… But I decided long ago that if I resigned to that kind of life, I would die of boredom.” 

“Spoken like a true lioness of Casterly Rock,” Jason said. Various others at the table knocked on the wood of the table and voiced their approval.

At this, Ormond Baratheon, Hand of the King and Steffon’s father, spoke up in curiosity. “Lady Joanna, do you mean to deride all women who engage in the female arts?”

Joanna steeled herself. She was finding Baratheon men to be combative types. “No, Lord Hand. I merely believe that women should be given the opportunity to choose for themselves their path in life.” She straightened her back, and looked Ormond Baratheon dead in the eye. 

The table was silent a moment.

“Now there’s a thought,” Ormond said, cocking an eyebrow upward. “Women maesters, builders, blacksmiths…” Satisfied in the conversation, he huffed and drank from his cup. Soon the conversation drifted to other matters, and Joanna again was quiet.

Tywin, however, looked to his right, where Joanna was seated. “What kind of life would you choose, Lady Joanna?”

“Ser?” Joanna asked, roused from her daze.

“The life that you would choose. What would that be?” His eyes betrayed no derision or teasing. He was earnest in his curiosity.

Joanna thought a moment. “I think I would have made a good maester. But I could not reconcile my wish for children.”

Tywin turned his chin upward. “You _wish_ to have children?”

“I do.”

“You don’t see it as a duty you must preform?”

Joanna cocked her head to the side. “No, I don’t. Some do. Tywin, I speak critically of the world women live in only because we are not given the choices men are. It doesn’t mean I don’t want children.” 

“So if you cannot be a maester, what _do_ you want to be?”

“Tywin,” Joanna said, low so that no one else could hear. “These are merely thoughts I have. Not real hopes.”

“I just mean… As the Lady of Casterly Rock. You _will_ have more choices. I wonder what you’ll do with them,” Tywin gave Joanna a look that made her breath catch. To him, this seemed a mere trifle. But little did he know how deeply affected Joanna was.

Joanna’s eyes shone in the torch light of the tent, and she opened her mouth to speak again, but thought better of it. Things were going so well with Tywin; she did not want to poison the waters by telling him that he would not be marrying a submissive, mewling girl. He said she would have choices, but did he really mean that? Would things be different once they actually were lord and lady of Casterly Rock?

Instead, Joanna nodded, and looked to the others seated at the table.

The evening went on much as it had, until most seated were well in their cups. When the conversation progressed from a polite murmur to an uproarious din, Tywin turned to his uncle.

“Ser Jason,” Tywin said, “I think it would be best to take Joanna back now.”

Jason nodded, and put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder lovingly. “Thank you, Tywin.”

Jason got out of his seat, and Tywin followed suit. Joanna looked up to the two men expectantly, and realized it was past time for her to leave. The men in the tent were trusted, but the rest of the camp was not. Joanna stood, and went into her father’s open arms for an embrace.

He held onto her especially tight, and kissed the top of her head. Joanna closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be enveloped by her father’s love. She felt the pull of tears at her eyes when she considered what could happen once they all left. She pushed it from her mind when her father pulled back to look at her. She would not let him see her upset. 

“Goodnight, Joanna,” he said. He nodded to Tywin.

“Goodnight, father,” she said meekly.

Tywin extended his arm to Joanna, which she took readily. A war encampment at night, though in theory safe, was no place for a lady.

Tywin led her through the courtyard into the Red Keep, and relaxed noticeably when they were far enough away from the camps. As they reached the Lannister corridor, Joanna spoke. 

“I have been trying all day not to think about them,” Joanna said. She continued before Tywin could ask. “The men who will not be returning. It’s a child’s hope that none will perish, so I’ll not presume that it will happen. But the thought has taken root inside me, and I’m afraid it’s going to strangle me.”

Joanna’s voice wavered on those last words, and she stopped walking. It was an admission she had been avoiding. Her breath came ragged, and she put her hand to her mouth in silent agony. Unable then to stop the oncoming storm, Joanna finally shed her tears.

“Joanna,” Tywin said, unsure how to comfort her. He took her free hand in his, and held it firmly. “What is it?”

Joanna looked up into Tywin’s eyes, which were so close in color to hers they might have been mirror images. She realized then that she was shaking.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, letting out fresh tears, and pressing her free hand to her heart. 

Unable to stand by and do nothing, Tywin pulled Joanna to himself, and wrapped her in his arms. In his arms, Joanna felt it was okay to let go, and she sobbed gently into his chest. She barely knew him, but still he was kin and her betrothed. And she could not pretend she wasn’t frightened of losing her father any longer.

“Shhh,” Tywin put his hand on Joanna’s back. “Don’t think that. You can’t think that.”

“I could promise you I will bring him home, Joanna,” Tywin said, “but I do not know the future. I don’t know if that’s a promise I can keep.” He held onto her tightly. “I don’t say this to upset you, but I say it because I will never make you a promise that I can’t keep. So believe me when I tell you I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.”

Joanna nodded in Tywin’s arms. Just then, he remembered she was still young. A lady nonetheless, but young all the same.

Tywin pulled away from Joanna, and put his hands on her arms gently.

“Ser Jason is one of the best fighters in Westeros,” Tywin said, searching her eyes. “He will fight with everything he has to come home to you.”

Joanna nodded. She wiped at the tears on her face, and cleared her eyes of what threatened to fall. She took a steadying breath, and looked up at Tywin, unsure what she should do.

It broke his heart how beautiful she was. He was conflicted about everything he felt, but even he wasn’t blind. He knew that she would grow into her beauty as well. He wanted to be there to see that. He ran the knuckle of his pointer finger down her chin, and his eyes lingered on her mouth.

“I will see you on the morrow,” he said. “I think I will fetch Maester Pycelle to give you something to help you sleep.”

Joanna shook her head. “No, I don’t need that.”

“Yes,” Tywin said. “You do. I can’t leave you alone with your thoughts knowing how upset you are, but I can’t come in.”

Joanna cocked her head to the side to question him, but knew he was right. She scoffed at the stupidity of propriety.

“A few drops of nightshade is safe,” Tywin said. “It will calm you to sleep. But you’ll have your senses, I promise.”

Joanna thought a moment, and nodded. Without another word, Tywin opened Joanna’s door, and waited for her to close it before he retrieved Pycelle.

Tywin and Pycelle stood in front of Joanna as she sat at her dining table, and drank the drops of nightshade put into water. When Pycelle and Tywin had left, Joanna was helped out of her dress by Fiora. The nightshade worked fast, and she felt oddly detached from herself. She climbed in under her covers, and in moments slipped into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention before the chapter that this is a story about Joanna and Tywin, not a story about the War of the Ninepenny Kings. So if you were hoping to get a battle-by-battle account of the war, that's not what's going to happen. I don't want to gloss over the war and ignore a huge chunk of time (over a year) that goes into forming the foundation of Joanna and Tywin's characters, but I just don't have the patience, and you didn't start reading this story for that. I hope I will be able to cover the war rather quickly without it being a total snooze-fest, and we will have Joanna and Tywin back together soon.

The next few days passed in a haze for Joanna. She spent her days with Rhaella, and was escorted back to her quarters by Tywin. She ate alone every night, as the knights and soldiers were all making last minute preparations before their departure. And then the last night came.

Joanna had not slept a moment. The whole night she lay in bed and dreaded the morning to come. She would be expected to see the men off from the docks, along with the princess and all other nobles staying in King’s Landing. She feared she would cling to her father’s heels, and beg him not to go. She wanted none of this to be happening.

When she saw the first hints of the sun rising, Joanna dressed and readied herself for the impending farewells. She sat at her dining table and listened to the birds in the pre-dawn light. The chill of the morning made her shiver, but she would not move. In her mind, anything else she did would bring the day faster, carrying her father and Tywin away with it.

When Fiora entered her bedchambers to help her dress, she expressed her surprise that Joanna was already in her clothes. Joanna had chosen an oxblood red dress, fitting of the future Lady of Casterly Rock.

Fiora placed Joanna’s breakfast tray in front of her. The idea of eating turned her stomach, and she looked away from it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, my lady,” Fiora said quietly, and retreated.

When the sun finally broke the horizon, Joanna heard the dreaded knock on her door, and she rose to meet it. When she opened the door, Tywin stood outside.

He looked as if he had not slept at all either.

“Joanna, if you’ll permit me a moment,” he said, and stepped into her chambers. He glanced at Fiora, silently asking to be left alone.

Joanna nodded her approval, and Fiora left to complete other chores.

With the door closed behind them, Joanna’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not blink. She looked away, and wiped the tears away before they fell. Tywin placed his hand on her cheek, and gently turned her to face him. He stepped closer, placing both hands on the small of her neck, cradling her as he kissed her.

Joanna breathed in sharply as Tywin’s lips met hers, and the tears she swore not to cry fell down her cheeks. He kissed her long, and pulled back to see her sea green eyes. Tears clung to her eyelashes, and Tywin thought even in her sadness, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I couldn’t leave without kissing you,” he said earnestly. He leaned in and kissed her again, lacing his fingers in her hair gently. He looked at her again, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

“Shhh,” Tywin pulled her to him, and she rested her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Come back to me,” she said quietly against his chest. She looked up at him, her tears now slowed to a halt. She would never ask him not to go. But she _would_ command him to come back.

He said nothing, but reached into the pocket of his doublet, and pulled out a delicate golden chain with a lion head coin on the end. He looked at the necklace, and looked at Joanna.

“I had this made for you,” he said, and opened the clasp. Joanna’s breath came ragged as she recovered, but pulled her golden hair aside for Tywin. He came to stand behind her and fastened the necklace. He pulled her hair gently through the necklace, and let it fall down her back.

Joanna turned around, and looked at the necklace briefly, before looking up at Tywin. She placed her hand on his cheek, and traced his bottom lip with her thumb. She stood on her toes to reach Tywin, pausing before her lips met his. “Thank you,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

Tywin’s tongue met Joanna’s lip gently, beckoning for more than time permitted. Joanna responded in kind, and sighed when Tywin put his hands on her waist. Tywin forced himself to stop, and looked down at his betrothed.

“I will come back if I have to fight through all seven hells to get here,” he said, and rested his forehead against hers.

Tywin grabbed Joanna’s hands, and kissed the back of each of them, before stepping back.

“It’s time,” he said, and Joanna followed wordlessly down to the docks, where her father and the rest of the men were soberly loading into rowboats to take them to their long ships that would take them to the Stepstones and Essos.

Joanna waited and watched as her father worked. She knew he would be on the last boat out to the long ships. She had hoped she could say goodbye before the royal procession came down to the docks, but it would not be so. Joanna heard the unmistakable steady beat of King’s Guard boots on the cobblestone streets, and looked over her shoulder. The king walked forward, awe-inspiring in his black and red armor. _He_ was not going to war, as Ormund Baratheon, his hand, had advised against it, but it would not save the Targaryen monarch from the display of pomp and circumstance.

Joanna involuntarily tightened her hold on Tywin’s arm when she saw Rhaella and Aerys following the king, Aerys in his own black armor with the Targaryen sigil. When the royal company had made it to the edge of the dock, the King’s Guard stopped, and the royals approached the various knights and ladies standing on the docks, who paid their respect by bowing.

When the king began saying his farewells to his generals, everyone else did the same.

Joanna watched as Rhaella and Aerys stood inches apart from each other, Aerys looking down on Rhaella. He bore a cruel grin, and put his hand on the side of his wife’s face, rubbing at her cheek with his thumb. Joanna noted the touch was not a gentle one, and she gritted her teeth. Rhaella’s face was impassive. The two of them exchanged words Joanna could not hear.

He kissed his wife, and held her to him, despite Rhaella not moving a bit. He pulled away from her, and walked away still smiling. He walked to Tywin and Joanna and stopped.

“Don’t worry, Lady Joanna,” he said sweetly. “Your bed won’t be cold for long.” His violet eyes shone cruelly, but he tempered his words despite their true meaning. “He’ll be back to you within a month’s time.”

Joanna swallowed, and nodded to her prince. “I hope that is all it takes, Your Grace.”

Aerys smirked, and stalked off to the end of the dock, and hopped down into one of the row boats that bore a dragon’s head mast.

When he had settled in, Joanna let out a breath she had been holding.

Tywin licked his lips, and turned to Joanna. In his eyes, Joanna knew that everything he said in her room was what he would say again, if he could. He could not conjure the words, so instead, he held her hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “ _All seven hells_ ,” he reminded her with a quiet whisper.

Joanna nodded, and Tywin followed Aerys into the boat. Joanna’s eyes caught her father’s, and he crossed the rest of the dock to reach her. Few of the generals remained on the docks, Ormund Baratheon included.

Jason pulled his daughter into his arms that seemed almost big enough to wrap around her twice. There, Joanna could not suppress her tears. She maintained all composure, but for the one sign of heartbreak.

“You be strong,” Jason said into her golden hair. “You’re a lioness of Casterly Rock,” he reminded her. He looked down into her green eyes, and wiped her tears away with his gloved hand.

“Yes, father,” she said. She closed her eyes when Jason kissed her cheek, and hugged her one last time before murmuring into her ear, “I love you.”

“I love you, papa,” Joanna said, regressing to her younger self. Joanna looked up at her father, unsure if she would ever see his face again, and tried in that moment to memorize his features. His eyes, dark for a Lannister, the lines at his mouth and that were a reminder of how much he smiled, his shaggy hair pulled behind his ears.

When all the men had boarded the last row boat, Joanna joined Rhaella, and took her hand in hers. The two friends exchanged a glance, knowing each of them hoped for a different outcome to the war.

* * *

Tywin’s hand rested on his friend’s shoulder. Steffon’s boots dug into the sand on the shores of Bloodstone, his elbows rested on his knees, and his hands gripped his raven black hair. The battle was won, but his father was dead. They had not been on Bloodstone more than a day, and the commander of the King’s army had perished. And Steffon was now Lord of Storm’s End.

Steffon was in his battle armor, stained still with his father’s blood.

Tywin did not have the words that would comfort his friend. How could he? What does one say to someone who’s just held their father while they slip away?

“I’m sorry, Steffon,” Tywin said, pressing down on his friend’s armored shoulder to comfort him.

Steffon had not cried, but merely sat in the sand, oddly detached from all that was happening around him. The forces that met them were cut down, but casualties had begun to pile up early in the battle.

“The _first battle_ , Tywin,” Steffon said.

Tywin chewed the inside of his cheek a moment, and sat down in the sand next to his friend. “He knew the risk we were taking,” Tywin said, looking out at the sea in the night. It appeared quite black, with its waves reflecting the light of the moon.

“I just regret that I didn’t get that monstrous bastard,” Steffon said, looking sidelong at his friend, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Maelys Blackfyre’s days are numbered, Steffon,” Tywin said. “It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be a month from now, but he _will_ pay for what he did to your father.”

Steffon and Tywin were silent a while, and looked back when they heard footsteps in the sand behind them. It was Aerys. He plopped down beside the two young men, lounging back in the sand with a cool arrogance unbefitting the mood of the evening.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Aerys said, placing his hand on Steffon’s shoulder when he leaned back up. “That pretender will die screaming if I have anything to say about it.”

Tywin and Steffon looked back at Aerys.

“Unless he’s slain in battle,” Aerys said with a shrug. “But if he’s not… I can think of one way to deal with would-be usurpers.”

Tywin and Steffon exchanged a glance. Targaryens had a prickly history with fire. Aerys always said he was the blood of the dragon. Aerion Targaryen had died by drinking wildfire, convinced he actually was a dragon. And not a year before, Aerys’s grandfather and uncle had perished in the fires of Summerhall, attempting to bring dragons back to Westeros.

Tywin shuddered to think what Aerys meant by Maelys Blackfyre dying screaming, but he knew deep down that the spark of Targaryen madness was there.

“You did well today,” Tywin said to his prince. “You keep that up, fight alongside the men, I think we might make a knight of you yet.”

Aerys smirked with confidence. He was still a young man—younger than Tywin—but had all the arrogance that a young man could possibly have. Tywin wondered to himself how anyone could call him arrogant when compared to Aerys Targaryen.

After a time on the beach, the three young men got up, and decided they would go back to oversee the camps being set up. When the hour grew very late, Tywin was finally able to sleep on a cot in the tent he shared with a handful of other knights. Lying awake, Tywin looked up at the roof of his tent, and wondered how Joanna had been since their parting.

It had taken a week to sail to the Stepstones. Tywin knew that, though the Targaryen host greatly outnumbered the Blackfyres, there were still eight of the Ninepenny Kings to deal with. They weren’t like the lords and houses of Westeros—they were a band of mercenaries and pirates. They would fight dirty. And they would not leave for Westeros until the threat had been stamped out. How ever long that took.


	8. Chapter 8

The thread pulled through the flesh as Joanna pulled the needle taut. The wound was now almost closed. The patient being sewn back together winced.

“Sorry,” Joanna said, looking up at the butcher. “I’m almost finished.”

“Bloody ridiculous,” the man said, shaking his head. “It’s these damned hands. They shake something awful these days.”

Joanna spared a sympathetic look to the man as she administered the last stitch.

“Maybe it’s time for an apprentice?” Joanna offered, cleaning the wound off with a clear spirit.

“Aye, it may be…” the man said, and looked at the palm of his hand.

“Let me see that,” a voice came from across the surgery. A jingling of chains grew louder as the maester stepped over to observe Joanna’s work. He paused, looking down at the man’s hand, turning it a few times.

“This is good work, Lady Joanna,” he said approvingly.

“Thank you, Maester Qyburn,” she said, and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Alright, you may go. _Be careful_ ,” Qyburn warned the butcher, as he nodded and took his leave.

Once he had gone, Joanna set to cleaning up the supplies.

“You’re getting quite good, you know,” Qyburn said, watching the high-born lady clean, with blood on the front of her apron. Sometimes the absurdity of it struck him, and he had to smile.

“Only because I have a good teacher,” Joanna said.

“Or perhaps a stupid one,” Qyburn said. “The gods only know what the king would have to say about this…”

“Maester Qyburn, if you don’t feel comfortable being a teacher, I won’t come any longer… I don’t want you to be expelled from the Order…”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” Qyburn said, waving a hand at the girl. “What is life without a little risk, eh?” He winked. “And besides, if it wasn’t me, you’d find another maester to hound, and I doubt he would be as discreet.”

Joanna began packing instruments back into their cloth case. “And I am grateful, Maester Qyburn. These past months, your lessons have meant the world to me.” Joanna paused, and placed her hands on the wormwood table. “Without the distraction from the war, I’m afraid I would go mad.”

Qyburn smiled sadly. “My lady, from all accounts, the war is all but won. I doubt the war will continue past another six months.”

“I hope you’re right,” Joanna said, and tied the cloth tie neatly.

“Have you thought of what will happen when they return?”

“Maester?” Joanna replied.

“I mean…” Qyburn said, rounding the table, and leaning back against it, closer to Joanna. He clasped his hands and rested them in his lap. “I mean, with your lessons. With me. Much as I appreciate having a pupil, I wonder what you plan to do with this knowledge once your father and betrothed return.”

Joanna chewed the inside of her lip a moment. “I don’t think that I’ll be taking the position of the Maester of Casterly Rock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two shared a smile.

“No, I… I don’t know. But their return won’t change my desire to learn from you. I hope it will not be a deterrent, Maester Qyburn.”

“So long as the Order does not find out. And so long as Ser Jason and Ser Tywin do not put a stop to these lessons…”

“They would never hear the end of it if they tried to stop me,” Joanna said, and removed her apron, smoothing her dress with her hands.

“I thought as much, my lady,” Qyburn said quietly, and clapped his hands together once. “Now—lest you keep the Princess waiting, you should be off.”

Joanna sighed, and nodded. “Thank you again, Maester Qyburn.”

Joanna walked down the halls of the Red Keep, out of the Maesters’ quarter, towards the suites of the Princess Rhaella. Joanna had been settling into her new life in the Red Keep these past months, attending secret lessons with Maester Qyburn, attending the Princess and her growing cohort of ladies in court, and wondering at night when the men she loved would return to her. The friendship of the princess, and the promise of knowledge still weren’t enough to dull the sense of dread in her stomach. But, if the reports were true, Joanna had nothing to worry about, and they would be home soon. And yet… _And yet_.

Joanna reached the Princess’s chambers, and entered, greeted by the usual scene. The Princess had her embroidery on her lap, with a gentle smile on her face as she listened to her ladies gossip.

“Ah, Lady Joanna,” Rhaella said. Joanna curtsied, and took up her seat beside the Princess, resuming her own embroidery.

“Your Grace,” she said. “My apologies for my lateness. I lost track of the hour whilst reading a new volume from the library.”

Rhaella caught Joanna’s eyes, and the two shared a knowing look.

“How you read so much is lost to me,” Lady Beritte said into her knitting, still not looking up.

“I’m afraid the amusements at Feastfyres may have been fewer and more far between than at Highgarden.”

“But they won’t be at Casterly Rock,” Lady Beritte said, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked up at Joanna. “I hear that Lord Tytos keeps lions.”

Joanna pulled a stitch through the Lannister sigil she had created.  “That he does,” Joanna said. “Though I have never seen them. After I was born there, I only ever went to Casterly Rock the one time.”

“Well with lions to amuse you, I’m sure there’s plenty more in Casterly Rock than dusty old books.”

“You should try it sometime, Lady Beritte—I think you might find it a trifle more rewarding than embroidery.”

Beritte nodded and smirked. It was enough to silence her, but Joanna could see she was not convinced.

She took a deep breath to give her apologies, but was stopped when the door to Rhaella’s chambers opened, and two Kingsguard knights entered. These were two men sworn to King Jaehaerys. They bowed before Princess Rhaella.

“Your Majesty, pardon our intrusion, but the king requests one of your handmaidens in court.”

Rhaella’s mouth fell open a moment. She caught herself, and swallowed any objections. “Of course, Ser Fallon, Ser Uther. Is everything alright?”

The taller, fairer of the two swallowed, and his eyes darted to Lady Joanna but a moment. “I couldn’t say, Your Majesty. I was only told to bring Lady Joanna to the Throne Room.”

All the ladies, and Rhaella turned toward Joanna, whose face had blanched. She looked around at her friends, the expressions on their faces knowing. A handful of the ladies had maybe one or two family members gone off to war, but Joanna had so many. Was this the news she had been dreading?

In her heart, she knew it was. But still, a lion must be brave, so Joanna stood, and left her embroidery where it had been before she sat down. She curtsied politely to Rhaella, and approached Sers Fallon and Uther.

“Lady Joanna, we shall come with you—” Rhaella started, but Joanna demurred and shook her head.

“It is no trouble, Your Majesty. Please stay with your ladies. I’ll return soon.” She tried very hard to believe her own words. But she didn’t want an audience beyond who was already in court.

Joanna nodded to the knights, and started walking ahead of them, wishing to end the agony of not knowing. As her heart hammered in her ears, she barely heard her steps along the stone floor. It felt like it took only a moment, and also a lifetime, to get to the entrance of the Throne Room, if that was at all possible.

When the doors opened, Joanna felt as if she may faint then and there. The faces of those standing in front of the dais were somber. As if they knew something already. Joanna’s stomach fell. Who was it? Father? Tywin? Kevan?

Joanna stopped just before the dais, and curtsied before the king.

“Your Grace,” Joanna said, barely hearing herself. She had already begun to tremble.

“My child,” Jaehaerys said, looking down at Joanna in pity. “I’m afraid this is difficult news. But it felt best to deliver it myself. It is, after all, my war he was fighting…”

Joanna felt her knees begin to buckle. She barely heard the footsteps of Rhaella and her ladies behind her, who had decided after all they should come to court for their friend.

“Your father, my child, has fallen on Bloodstone,” Jaehaerys said, and Joanna’s hand went to her stomach as all the air was sucked from the room.

Joanna swayed slightly, and Ser Uther caught her by the arm to steady her. Her breath came back to her in a sharp burst, and tears fell down her face.

“No, no,” she said, her knees giving under her. Ser Uther put his hands around her waist to keep her upright. Joanna’s vision blurred, and a hissing sound grew in her ears. All reason and propriety fled her, and she gave out a heartbroken wail. In her mind, she ran through the possibilities that might make this untrue. This was a dream. The king was being cruel, having a laugh… Her father wasn’t _dead_. The great Ser Jason, so strong and so noble, couldn’t have fallen.

Joanna sobbed, and hardly noticed the commotion around her. The voices, the shouting and footsteps.

Jaehaerys had called for a maester. Faces floated in front of Joanna’s eyes, but through tears and shock she registered none of them, until Maester Qyburn took her face in his hands. She put her hands on his wrists, and shook her head.

“Lady Joanna,” he bid, quietly. “Lady Joanna, you must take this,” he said, putting a vial to her mouth.

She shook her head again, refusing the elixir. Whatever it was.

“Take it, child,” he bid, and tipped the bottle up, so that the contents fell into her mouth. She struggled against the potion, but nonetheless she swallowed it. As she did, she had an oddly detached thought.

 _Child, he calls me_ , she thought, _he can’t be more than twenty_ … But this was where her mind went, firing from all corners, trying to make sense of what was happening to her.

“Please, please…” she begged as Ser Uther scooped her up into his strong arms as if she was nothing more than a sack of flour.

“Bring her to her room,” Qyburn bid, leading the way. As Uther carried her, she fell into a sort of twilight, a calm washing over her. She knew it was nightshade they had given her. Not much, but enough.

As Uther set her down in her bed, Qyburn bid him out, and he took up his place beside her bed in a chair, dabbing at her tear stained face with a wet rag.

“There, there, child…” he said, smoothing her golden hair out of her face. “Rest now.”

Before sleep could take her, Joanna replied, “I’m not a child…”

Qyburn smiled sadly. “No. You’re not.”

* * *

Tywin Lannister’s career during the War of the Ninepenny Kings was shining. Tales of his valor in battle would be talked of for the rest of his life. But what the stories didn’t mention was the one day that Tywin Lannister came very close to shirking all his duties, and fleeing for Westeros. 

The parchment he clutched in his hand had been forgotten as he marched towards a Lannister longboat. He was the commander of the Westerlands host now, and none would stop him. As he boarded the ship in the black of night, he began readying the sails, bidding shiphands to do the same.

“ _Tywin_ ,” a voice called from the beach. Aerys stalked down the dock, followed by his cousin, Steffon Baratheon, and Barristan Selmy. “Tywin, stop.”

“Did you read it, Aerys?” Tywin said, spinning toward the three men on the dock, holding the crumpled parchment in his hands. “You all did. She’s alone. I can’t stay here _while she’s alone_.”

“She’s been alone since we left, Tywin,” Steffon reasoned. “She has her handmaid. She has Princess Rhaella… And she will have you _when the war is over_.”

Ser Jason had been dead now for a week, but news of his death, and news of Joanna’s heartbroken state, had only just reached Tywin. He had been heartbroken at the death of his uncle Jason, but reading of Joanna’s grief-stricken state had set a fire in him.  

“So you return to her, Tywin,” Aerys hypothesized, stepping aboard the longboat. “You return to her after fleeing from battle. We all know you would never bring shame to your house by doing that.”

At that moment, the three men looked at Tywin, and for a second they weren’t sure Aerys’s words rang true. In that moment, they could see how much Tywin loved Joanna. He barely knew her, and had said as much, but none of them could deny it then.

“Tywin,” Barristan bid, stepping aboard and putting his hand on Tywin’s armored shoulder. “Help us finish this war and you never have to leave her side again. Fight like seven hells.”

“But I won’t be bringing _him_ back,” Tywin said. The three men looked at him sympathetically.

“I know, brother,” Barristan said, and drew Tywin into an embrace. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments over the past several months. I read every one, and they do inspire me to sit down and put pen to paper, even for a little bit. I hope to keep chiseling away, but I have been on a bit of a Thrones dry spell, and wanted to reacquaint myself with the story before diving back in, so I've been watching the whole series over from the start. Now that I feel a little more comfortable, I'm back in the game. Let me know what you think!


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